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MILLY AND OLLY 



OB 



A HOLIDAY AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 




i House.— I'agu 64. 



,\i i ! ; 




MILLY AND OLLY 

UR 

A HOLIDAY AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 

By MlM. T. H. WARD 




Slliurttattli bg JffltB. aima ISitmal rro icqt 

HonDon 

MACMILLAN AND CO. 
1881 



Til rifkl ^/raiulittioH ami nprodncti 



CONTENTS. 



Maeino Plans 


CHAPTER L 
• • • • 

CHAPTER XL 


PAOB 
1 


A JouBNET North 


• • t » 

CHAPTER IIL 


. 12 


Baybnbnsst 


• • • • 


. 31 



CHAPTER IV. 
Out on the Hills . . . . .55 

CHAPTER V. 
Aunt Emma's Pionio . . . .60 

CHAPTER VI. 
Wet Days at Ravensnbst . . . 108 



vi CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VIL 

PAOB 

A Stort-telling Game . . . .132 



CHAPTER VHL 
The Story op Beowulf . . . .159 

CHAPTER IX. 
Millie's Birthday and a Misfortune . .187 

CHAPTER X. 
Last Days at Rayensnest . • . .217 



k 



LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. 



AxTNT Emma's House 

MiLLY AND TiZA IN THE ChERRY-TREE 
" Now, MiLLY, FIND WlLLINGHAM " . 

Charlie and Bessie 



Frontiqnece 

(Vignette) 

. To face page 9 



» 



41 



" Father, aren't you talking nonsense ? " 

" Come, Milly, try whether you can man- 
age the Stepping-stones by yourself " 

" They found her a flock of the love- 
liest WHITE Sheep " . 



» 



» 



n 



98 



111 



151 



Milly and Olly say goodbye to Becky . 



V 



220 




MILLY AND OLLY: 



A HOLIDAY AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 



CHAPTER I. 



MAKING PLANS. 

" MiLLT, come down ! come down directly ! Mother 
wants you. Do make haste !" 

" I'm just coming. Oily. Don't stamp so. Nurse 
is tying my sash" 

But Master Oily went on stamping, and jumping 
up and down stairs, as his way waa when he was 
very much excited, till MiUy appeared. Presently 
down she came, a. sober faii-haired little maiden, 
with blue eyes and a turn-up nose, and a mouth 

'?- S B ■ 



2 MILLY AND OLLY. 



that wjis generally rather solemn-looking, though it 
could liiu«^h nien'ily enough when it tried. Milly 
was six years old. Slie looked older than six. At 
any raU^ she looked a great deal older than OUy, 
who was nearly live ; and you will soon find out 
that wlui was a good deal more than a year and a half 
wis(n'. 

" What's the matter, Oily ? Wliat made you shout 
so ? " 

"Oh, come along, come along;" said the little 
boy, (Irag^n'ng his sister to make her run. "Mother 
wants to tell us something, and she says it's a 
nice something, and she wouldn't tell me without 
you." 

Then the two children set off running, and they 
flew down a long passage to the drawing-room, and 
were soon scrambling about a lady who was sitting 
working by the window. 

" Well, monkeys, don't choke me before I tell you 
my nice something. Now, Milly, guess — what have 
father and I just been talking about ? " 

"Sending OUy to school, perhaps," said MiUy. 
" I heard Uncle Eichard talking about it yesterday." 

" That wouldn't be such a nice something," said 
Oily, making a long face. " I wouldn't like it — not 



MAKING PLANS. 



a bit. Boys don't never like going to school. I 
want to learn my lessons with mother." 

"I know a little boy that doesn't like learning 
lessons with mother very much/' said the lady laugh- 
ing. " But my nice something isn't sending Oily to 
school, Milly. Try again." 

" Oh, mother! is it a strawberry tea ? " cried Milly. 
" The strawberries axe just ripe I know. Gardener 
told nurse so this morning. And we can have tea on 
the lawn, and ask Jacky and Francis ! " 

" Oh, joUy !" said Oliver, jumping off his mother's 
knee and beginning to dance about. "And well 
gather .them ourselves — won't you let us, mother ? " 

"But it isn't a strawberry tea even," said his 
mother. "Now, look here, children, what have I 
got here ? " 

" It's a map — a map of England," said Milly, 
looking very wise. Milly had just begun to 
learn geography, and thought she knew all about 
maps. 

" WeU, and what happens when father and I look 
at maps in the summer-time ? " 

"Why," said Milly, "you and father pack up 
your things and go away over the sea, and we stay 
behind with nurse." 



MILLY AND OLLY. 



"I don't call that a nice something," said Oily, 
standing still again. 

"Oh, mother, are you going away?" said Milly, 
hanging round her mother's neck, 

" Yes, Milly, and so's father — and so's nurse " — and 
their mother began to laugh. 

"So's nurse," said Milly and Oily together, and 
then they stopped and looked at their mother. " Oh, 
mother, mother, take us too !" 

" Why, how should father and I get on, travelling 
about with a pair of monkeys ? " said their mother, 
catching hold of the two children and lifting them 
on to her knee; "we should want a cage to keep 
them in." 

" Oh, mother, we'll be ever so good ! But where are 
we going ? Oh, do take us to the sea !" 

"Yes, the sea! the sea!" shouted Oily, careering 
round the room again ; " and we'll have buckets and 
spades, and we'll paddle and catch crabbies, and wet 
our clothes just like Cromer. And father '11 teach 
me to swim — ^he said he would next time." 

" No," said Mrs. Norton, for that was the name of 
MiUy and Oliver's mother. " No, we are not going 
to the sea this summer. We are going to a place 
mother loves better than the sea, though perhaps 



MAKING PLANS. 



you children mayn't like it quite so weU. "We're 
going to the mountains. Uncle Richard has lent 
father and mother his own nice house among the 
mountains, and we're all going there next week — 
such a long way in the train, Milly." 

'•'What are mountains?" said Oily, who had 
scarcely ever seen a hill higher than the church 
steeple. " They can't be so nice as the sea, mother. 
Nothing can." 

"Thejr're humps, Oily,' answered Milly eagerly. 
" Great humps of earth you know; earth mixed with 
stone. And they reach up ever so high, up into the 
sky. And it takes you a whole day to get up to the 
top of them, and a whole day to get down again. 
Doesn't it, mother? Fraulein told me all about 
mountains in my geography. And some mountains 
have got snow on their tops all the year, even in 
summer. "Will the mountains we're goinjg to have 
snow on them ? " 

" Oh no. Tlie snow mountains are far away over 
the sea. But these are English mountains, kind 
easy mountains, not too high for you and me to 
climb up, and covered all over with soft green 
grass and wild flowers, and tiny sheep with black 
faces." 



6 MILLY AND OLLY, 

" And, mother, is there a garden to Uncle Eichard's 
house, and are there any children there to play 
with ? " 

" There's a delightful garden, full of roses, and 
strawberries and grapes, and everything else that's 
nice. And it has a baby river all to itself, that runs 
down through the middle, so perhaps Oily may have 
a paddle sometimes, though we aren't going to the 
sea. And the gardener has got two little children, 
just about your age. Aunt Mary says ; and there are 
two more at the farm, two dear little girls, who aren't 
a bit shy, and will like playing with you very much. 
But who else shall we see there, Milly ? Who lives 
in the mountains too, near Uncle Eichard ? " 

Oily looked puzzled, but Milly thought a minute, 
and then said quickly, " Aunt Emma — isn't it, 
mother ? Didn't she come here once ? I think I 
remember." 

"Yes, she came once, but long ago, when you were 
quite small. But now we shall see a great deal of 
her I hope, for she lives just on the other side of the 
mountain from Uncle Eichard's house, in a pretty 
old house, where I spent a great many happy days 
when I was small. Great-grandpapa and grand- 
mamma were alive then. But now Aunt Emma 



MAKING PLANS. 



lives there quite alone. Except for one creature, at 
least — an old gray poll-parrot, that chatters away, 
and behaves as if it were quite sensible, and knew 
all about everything." 

" Hasn't she got any pussies, mother ? " asked 
OUy. 

'*^Yes, two I believe; but they don't get on with 
Polly very well, so they live in the kitchen out of 
the way " 

"I like pussies better than pollies," said Oily 
gravely. 

"Why, what do you know about pollies, old 
man ? " 

"Pollies bite — I know they do. There was a 
poUy bited Francis once." 

" Well, and pussies scratch," said MHly. 

" No, they don't — not if you're nicey to them," said 
Oily ; who was just then very much in love with a 
white kitten, and thought there were no creatures 
so delightful as pussies. 

"Well, suppose you don't make up your mind 
about Aunt Emma's Polly till you've seen her," said 
Mrs. Norton. " Now sit down on the rug there and 
let us have a talk." 

Down squatted the children on the floor opposite 



8 MILLY AND OLLY. 

their mother, with their little heads full of plans and 
their eyes as bright as sparks. 

" I'll take my cart and horse," began Oily ; " and 
my big ball, and my whistle, and my wheelbarrow, 
and my spade, and all my books, and the big scrap- 
book, and " 

"You can't, Oily," exclaimed Milly. "Nurse 
could never pack all those up. There'd be no room 
for our clothes. You can take your whistle, and the 
top, and the picture books, and I can take my dolls. 
That'll be quite enough, won't it, mother ? " 

" Quite enough," said Mrs. Norton. " If it's fine 
weather you will hardly want any toys. But now, 
look here, children," and she held up the map. 
" Shall I show you how we are going to get to the 
mountains ?" 

" Oh yes," said Milly, " that '11 be like my geo- 
graphy lesson — come, OUy. Now mother '11 teach 
you geography, like Fraulein does me." 

" That's lessons," said Oily, with half a pout, " not 
fun a bit. It's only girls like lessons — Boys never 
do — Jacky doesn't, and Francis doesn't, and I don't." 

" Never mind about it's being lessons. Oily. Come 
and see if it isn't interesting," said Mrs. Norton. 
"Now, Milly, find Willingham." 




'Now, Milly, find Wimtigham.'— Page 8, 



10 MILLY AND OLLY. 

will go faster than the first. And it will take us past 
all kinds of places, some pretty and some ugly, and 
some big and some small. At Stafford there is an 
old castle, Milly, where fierce people lived in old 
days and fought their neighbours. And at Crewe 
we shall get out and have our dinner. And at Wigan 
all the trees grow on one side as if some one had 
come and given them a push in the night ; and at 
Lancaster there's another old castle, a very famous 
one, only now they have turned it into a prison, and 
people are shut up inside it. Then a little way after 
Lancaster you'll begin to see some mountains, but 
first you'll see something else — just a little bit of 
blue sea, with mountains on the other side of it. And 
then will come Windermere, where we shall get out 
and drive in a carriage. And we shall drive right 
into the mountains. Oily, till they stand up all round 
us with their dear kind old faces that mother has 
loved ever since she was a baby." 

The children looked up wonderingly at their 
mother, and they saw her face shining and her eyes 
as bright as theirs, as if she too was a child going out 
for a holiday. 

" Oh ! And, mother," said Oily, " you'll let us take 
Spot. She can go in my box." 



MAKING PLANS. 11 

Now Spot was the white kitten, so Milly and 
mother began to laugh. 

" Suppose you go and ask Spot first, whether 
she'd like it, Oily," said Mrs. Norton, patting his 
sunburnt little face. 



12 MILLY AND OLLY. 



CHAPTER 11. 

A JOURNEY NORTH. 

MiLLY and Oliver lived at Willingham, a little town 
in Oxfordshire, as I have already told you. Their 
father was a doctor, and they lived in an old-fashioned 
house, in a street, with a long shady garden stretch- 
ing away behind it. Milly and Oliver loved their 
father, and whenever he put his brown face inside 
the nursery door, two pairs of little feet went run- 
ning to meet him, and two pairs of little hands 
pulled him eagerly into the room. But they saw 
him very seldom ; whereas their mother was always 
with them, teaching them their lessons, playing with 
them in the garden, telling them stories, mending 
their frocks, tucking them up in their snug little 
beds at night, sometimes praising them, sometimes 
scolding them ; always loving and looking after them. 
Milly and Oily honestly believed that theirs was the 
best mother in the whole world. Nobody else could 
find out such nice plays, or tell such wonderful 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 13 



stories, or dress dolls half so welL Two little neigh- 
bours of theirs, Jacky and Francis, had a poor sick 
mother who always lay on the sofa, and could hardly 
bear to have her little boys in the room with her. 
Milly and Oliver were never tired of wondering how 
Jacky and Francis got on with a mother like that. 
** How funny, and how dreadful it must be. Poor 
Jacky and Francis ! " It never came into their heads 
to say, ** Poor Jacky's mother " too, but then you see 
they were such little people, and little people have 
only room in their heads for a veiy few thoughts at a 
time. 

However, Milly had been away from her mother a 
good deal lately. About six months before my stoiy 
b^ins she had been sent to school, to a kindergarten, 
as she was taught to call it. And there MUly had 
learnt all kinds of wonderful things, — she had learnt 
how to make mats out of paper, blue mats, and piuk 
mats, and yellow mats, and red mats ; she had learnt 
how to make a bit of soft clay look like a box, or a 
stool, or a bird's nest with three clay eggs inside it ; 
she had begun to add up and take away ; and, above 
all, she had began to learn geography, and Fraulein — 
for Milly's mistress was a German, and had a German 
i^ame — ^was just now teaching her about islands, and 



14 MILLY AND OLLY. 

lakes, and capes, and peninsulas, and many other 
things that all little girls have to learn about some 
time or other, unless they wish to grow up dunces. 

As for Milly's looks, I have told you already that 
she had blue eyes and a turn-up nose, and a dear 
sensible little face. And she had very thick fair hair, 
that was always tumbling about her eyes, and making 
her look, as nurse told her, like " a yellow owl in an 
ivy bush." Milly loved most people, except perhaps 
John the gardener, who was rather cross to the 
children, and was always calling to them not to walk 
on the beds, and to be sure not to touch any of the 
fruit or flowers. She loved her father and her 
mother; she loved Oily with all her whole heart, 
though he was a tease ; she loved her nurse, whom 
she and Oily called Nana, and who had been with 
them ever since Milly was born; and she loved her 
Fraulein, and was always begging flowers from her 
mother that she might take them to school for Frau- 
lein's table. So you see MiUy was made up of loving. 
— And she was a thoughtful little girl too, tidy with 
her dress, quick and quiet at her lessons, and always 
ready to sit still with her fairy book or her doll, when 
mother was busy or tired. But there were two things 
in which Milly was not at all sensible in spite of her 



A JO URNE Y NORTH. 1 5 

sensible face. She was much too ready to cry when 
any little thing went wrong, and she was dreadfully 
afraid of creatures of all sorts. She was afraid of 
her father's big dog, she was afraid of the dear brown 
cow that lived in the field beyond the garden, she 
was afraid of earwigs. I am even ashamed to say 
she was afraid of spiders. Once she ran away as if a 
lion were behind her from a white kitten that pulled 
her dress with its frolicsome paws to make her play 
with it ; but that, Milly would teU you, was ** when 
I was little," and she was quite sure she was a great 
deal braver now. 

Now what am I to tell you about Oily ? 

Oily was just a round ball of fun and mischief 
He had brown hair, brown eyes, a brown face, and 
brown hands. He was always touching and me^l- 
dling with everything, indoors and out, to see wliat 
was inside it, or what it was made of. He lila^d 
teasing Milly, he liked his walks^ he like^l his sl/^> 
in the morning, he liked his dinner, he liked his t<^, 
he liked everything in the world, excejit l/^aming U) 
read, and that he hated He could only do one thing 
besides mischiefl He could sing all kinds of tun^^^ 
quick tunes, slow tunes, sad tunes, and xiUiXry turu^. 
He had been able to sing tunes ever mu*M \ui wm 



16 MILLY AND OLLY. 

quite a tiny baby, and his father and mother often 
talked together of how, in about a year, he should be 
taught to play on the piano, or perhaps on the violin, 
if he liked it better. You might hear his sharp, shrill 
little voice, singing about the house and the garden 
all day long. John the gardener called it "squeaHn," 
and told Oily his songs were "capital good" for 
frightening away the birds. 

Now, perhaps, you know a little more about MiUy 
and OUy than you did when I began to tell you 
about them, and it is time you should hear of what 
happened to them on that wonderful journey of 
theirs up to the mountains. 

First of all came the packing up. Milly could not 
make up her mind about her dolls ; she had three : 
Eose, Mattie, and Katie ; but Eose's frocks were very 
dirty, Mattie had a leg broken, and Katie's paint 
had been aU washed off one wet night, when OUy left 
her out on the lawn. Now which of these was the 
tidiest and most respectable doU to take out on a 
visit ? Milly did not know how to settle it. 

"I think. Nana," she said at last to her nurse, who 
was packing the children's trunk, " I wiU take Katie. 
Mother always sends us away when we get white 
faces to make us look nice and red again ; so, per- 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 17 

haps, if I take Katie her colour will come back too, 
you know/* 

" Perhaps it will, Miss MiUy," said nurse, laughing ; 
" anyhow, you had better give me the doll you want 
directly, for it is time I packed all the toys now. 
Now, Master Oily, you know I can't let you take all 
those things." 

For there was Oily dragging along his wheel- 
barrow heaped up with toys with one hand, and his 
cart and horse with a box of bricks standing up in it 
with the other. He would not listen to what Milly said 
about it, and he would scarcely listen to nurse now. 

"I can't do without my toys. Nana. I must do 
mischief if you won't let me take all my toys ; I can't 
help it." 

" I haven't got room for half those. Master Oily, 
and you'll have ever so many new things to play with 
when we get to Eavensnest." 

" There'll be the new children. Oily," said Milly, 
" and the little rivers and all the funny new flowers." 

" Those aren't toys," said Oily, looking ready to 
cry ; " I don't know nothing about them." 

"Now," said nurse, making a place in the box, 
" bring me your bricks and your big ball, and your 
picture-books. There, that's all I can spare you." 





18 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"Wait one minute," said Oily, rushing off; and 
just then Mrs. Norton called nurse away to speak to 
her in the drawing-room. When nurse came back 
she saw nobody in the nursery. Milly had gone out 
in the garden, Oily was nowhere to be seen. And 
who had shut down the trunk, which was open when 
she left it ? Me-ow, sounded very softly from some- 
where close by. 

"Why— Spot ! Spot !" called nurse. 

Me-ow, Me-ow, came again ; a sad choky little 
mew, right from the middle of the children's trunk. 
"Master Oily and his tricks again," said nurse, running 
to the box and opening it. There, on the top, lay a 
quantity of frocks that nurse had left folded up on 
the floor, thrown in anyhow, with some toys scattered 
among them, and the frocks and toys were all dancing 
up and down as if they were bewitched. Nurse took 
out the frocks, and there was the children's collar- 
box, a large round cardboard-box with a lid, jumping 
from side to side like a box in a fairy tale ; and such 
dreadful pitiful little mews coming from the inside ! 
Nurse undid the lid, and out sprang Spot like a flash 
of lightning, and ran as if she were running for her 
life out of the door and down the stairs, and safe into 
the kitchen, where she cuddled herself up in a comer 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 19 

of the fender, wishing with all her poor trembling 
little heart that there were no such things in the 
world as small boys. And then nurse heard a kind 
of kicking and scuffling in the china cupboard, and 
when she opened it there sat Oily doubled up, his 
brown eyes dancing like WiU-o'-the-Wisps, and his 
little white teeth grinning. 

"Oh! Nana, she did make a funny me-ow! I 
just said to her, Now, Spottie, wouldn't you like to go 
in my box ? and she said. Yes ; and I made her such 
a comfy bed, and then I stuck all those frocks on the 
top of her to keep her warm. Why did you let her 
out, Nana?" 

" You little mischief," said Nana, "do you know 
you might have smothered poor little Spot? And 
look at all these frocks ; do you think I have got 
nothing better to do than to tidy up after your 
tricks r 

But nurse never knew how to be very hard upon 
Oily ; so all she did was to set him up on a high chair 
with a picture-book, where she could see all he was 
doing. There was no saying what he might take a 
fancy to pack up next if she didn't keep an eye on 
him. 

Well, presently all the packing was done, and 



20 MILLY AND OLLY, 

Milly and Oily had gone to say good-bye to Fraulein, 
and to Jacky and Francis. Wednesday evening came, 
and they were to start early on Thursday morning. 
Oily begged nurse to put him to bed very early, that 
he might "wake up krick," — quick was a word Oily 
never could say. So to bed he went at half-past six, 
and his head had scarcely touched the pillow two 
minutes before he had gone cantering away into 
dreamland, and was seeing all the sights and hearing 
all the delicious stories that children do see and hear 
in dreamland, though they don't always remember 
them when they wake up. Both Milly and he woke 
up very early on Thursday morning ; and directly his 
eyes were open Oily jumped out of bed like an india- 
rubber ball, and began to put on his stockings in a 
terrible hurry. The noise of his jump woke nurse, 
and she called out in a sleepy voice — 

"Get into bed again. Master Oily, directly. It is 
only just six o'clock, and I can't have you out of bed 
till seven. You'll only be imder my feet, and in 
everybody's way." 

"Nana, I won't be in anybody's way," exclaimed 
Oily, running up to her and scrambling on to her bed 
with his Uttle bare toes half-way into his stockings. 
"I can't keep still in my bye all such a long time. 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 21 

There's something inside of me, Nana, keeps jumping 
up and down, and won't let me keep stUl. Now, if I 
get up, you know. Nana, I can help you." 

" Help me, indeed !" said nurse, kissing his little 
brown face, or as much of it as could be seen through 
his curls. "A nice helping that would be* Come 
back to bed, sir, and I'll give you some picture-books 
till I'm ready to dress you." 

So back to bed Master Oily went, sorely against 
his will, and there he had to stay till nurse and Milly 
were dressed, and the breakfast things laid. Then 
nurse gave him his bath and dressed him, and put 
him up to eat his bread and milk while she finished 
the packing. Oily was always very quiet over his 
meals, and it was the only time in the day when he 
was quiet. 

Presently up rattled the cab, and down ran the 
children with their walking things on to see father 
and John lift the boxes on to the top ; and soon they 
were saying good-bye to Susan the cook, and Jenny 
the housemaid, who were going to stay and take care 
of the house while they were away ; and then crack 
went the whip, and off they went to the station. On 
the way they passed Jacky and Francis standing at 
their gate, and all the children waved their hats and 



22 MILLY AND OLLY. 

shouted "Hurrah! hurrah!" At the station nurse 
kept tight hold of Oily tiU father had got the tickets 
and put all the boxes into the train, and then he and 
Milly were safely lifted up into the railway carriage, 
and nurse and father and mother came next, with all 
the bags and shawls and umbrellas. 

Such a settling of legs and arms and packages 
there was ; and in the middle of it "whew" went the 
whistle, and off they went away to the mountains. 

But they had a long way to go before they saw 
any mountains. First of all they had to get to 
Bletchley, and it took about an hour doing that. And 
oh ! what a lovely morning it was, and how fresh and 
green the fields looked as the train hurried along past 
them. OUy and Milly could see hundreds and thou- 
sands of moon-daisies and buttercups growing among 
the wet grass, and every now and then came great 
bushes of wild-roses, some pink and some white, and 
long pools with yellow irises growing along the side ; 
and sometimes the train went rushing through a little 
village, and they could see the little children trotting 
along to school, with their books and slates tucked 
under their arms ; and sometimes they went along for 
miles together without seeing anything but the white- 
and-brown cows in the fields, and the great mother- 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 23 

sheep with their fat white lambs beside them. The 
sun shone so brightly, the buttercups were so yellow, 
the roses so pink, and the sky so blue, it was like a 
fairy world. Oily and MiUy were always shouting 
and clapping their hands at something or other, for 
Milly had grown almost as wild as Oily. 

Sh sh sh sh went the train, get- 
ting slower and slower, till at last it stopped altogether. 

"Bletchley, Bletchley," shouted OUy, jumping 
down off the seat. 

" No, my boy," said his father, catching hold of 
him, " we shall stop five more times before we get to 
Bletchley; so don't be impatient." 

But at last came Bletchley, and the children were 
lifted out into the middle of such a bustle, as it 
seemed to Milly. There were crowds of people at 
the station, and they were all pushing backwards and 
forwards, and shouting and talking. 

"Keep hold of me, Oily," said Milly, with an 
anxious little face. " Oh, Nana, don't let him go !" 

But nurse held him fast; and very soon they 
were through the crowd, and father had put them 
safe into their new train, into a carriage marked 
" Windermere," which would take them all the way 
to their journey's end. 



24 MILLY AND OLLY, 

" That was like Kons and bears, wasn't it, mother ?'* 
said Oily, pointing to the crowd in the station, as 
they went puffing away. Now, "lions and bears" 
was a favourite game of the children's ; a romping 
game, where everybody ran about and pretended to 
be somebody else, and where the more people played, 
and the more they ran and pushed and tumbled 
about, the funnier it was. And the running, scramb- 
ling people at the station did look rather as if they 
were playing at Uons and bears. 

And now the children had a long day before them. 
On rushed the train, past towns and villages, and 
houses and trains. The sun got hotter and hotter, 
and the children began to get a little tired of looking 
out of window. Milly asked for a story book, and 
was soon very happy reading " Snow white and Rose 
red." She had read it a hundred times before, but 
that never mattered a bit. Oily came to sit on 
nurse's knee while she showed him pictures, and so 
the time passed away. And now the train stopped 
again, and father lifted OUy on his knee to see a 
great church far away over the houses, and taught 
him to say " Lichfield Cathedral." And then came 
Stafford; and Milly looked out for the castle, and 
wondered whether the castles in her story books 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 25 

looked like that, and whether princesses and fairy 
godmothers and giants ever lived there in old times. 
After they had left Stafford, Oily hegan to get 
tired and fidgety. First he went to sit on his 
father's knee, then on mother's, then on nurse's — 
none of them could keep him still, and nothing 
seemed to amuse him for long together. 

" Come and have a sleep, Master Oily," said nurse. 
" You are just tired and hot. This is a long way for 
little boys, and we've got ever so far to go yet." 

"I'm not sleepy. Nana," said Oily, sitting straight 
up, with a little flushed face and wide-open eyes. 
" I'm going to keep awake like father." 

" Father's going to sleep, then," said Mr. Norton, 
tucking himself up in a shady comer; " so you go too. 
Oily, and see which of us can go quickest." 

When Oily had seen his father's eyes tight shut 

and heard him give just one little snore — it w^as 

rather a make-believe snore— he did let nurse draw 

him on to her knee; and very soon the little gipgy 

creature was fast asleep, with all his brown cu 1 

lying like a soft mat over nurse's arm. Mili^ ^ 

shut' her eyes and sat very still; she did not ^^ 

to go to sleep, but presently she began to t\ii^^^^ 

great many sleepy thoughts : Why did the V^^ ^ 



26 MILLY AND OLIY. 

run so fast ? and why did the telegraph wires go up 
and down as if they were always making curtsies ? 
and was that really mother opposite, or was it Cin- 
derella's fairy godmother ? And all of a sudden MiQy 
came bump up against a tall blue mountain that had 
a face like a man, and cried out when she bumped 
upon it ! 

" Crewe ! I declare," exclaimed father, jumping up 
with a start. " Why, Oily and I have been asleep 
nearly an hour ! Wake up, children, it's dinner-time." 

Nurse had to shake Oily a great many times 
before he would open his sleepy eyes, and then he 
stood up rubbing them as if he would rub them quite 
away. Father lifted him out and carried him into a 
big room, with a big table in it, all ready for dinner, 
and hungry people sitting round it. What fun it 
was having dinner at a station, with all the grown-up 
people. Milly and Oily thought there never was 
such nice bread and such nice apple-tart. Nothing 
at home ever tasted half so good. And after dinner 
father took them a little walk up and down the plat- 
form, and at last, just as it was time to get into the 
train again, he bought them a paper full of pictures, 
called the Graphic, that amused Oily for a long way. 

But it was a long long way to Windermere, and 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 27 

poor Milly and Oily began to get very tired. The 
trees at Wigan did make them laugh a little bit, but 
they were too tired to think them as funny as they 
would have thought them in the morning. They are 
such comical trees ! First of all, the smoke from the 
smoky chimneys at Wigan has made them black, and 
stopped the leaves from growing, and then the wind 
has blown them all over on one side, so that they look 
like ugly little twisted dwarfs, as if some cruel fairy 
had touched them with her wand. But Oily soon 
forgot all about them ; and he began to wander from 
one end to the other of the carriage again, scrambling 
and jumping about, till he gave himself a hard knock 
against the seat ; and that made him begin to cry — 
poor tired little Oily. Then mother lifted him on to 
her knee, and said to him, very softly, " Are you very 
tired. Oily ? Never mind, poor little man, we shan't 
be very long now; and we're all tired, darling, — 
father's tired, and I'm tired ; and look at Milly there — 
she looks like a little white ghost. Suppose you be 
brave, and try a little extra hard to be good. Then 
mother 'U love you an extra bit. And what do you 
think we shall see soon ? such a lovely bit of blue sea 
with white ships on it ! Just you shut your eyes a 
little bit till it comes, — I'll be sure to tell you." 



28 MILLY AND OLLY, 

And sure enough, after Lancaster, mother gave a 
little cry, and Oily jumped up, and Milly came 
running over, and there before them lay the dancing 
windy blue sea, covered over with little white waves, 
running and tumbling over each other. And on the 
other side of it, what did the children see ? 

" Mother, mother ! what is it? " cried Oily, point- 
with his little brown hand far away; "is it a fairy 
palace, mother?" 

" Perhaps it is. Oily; any way, the hill-fairies live 
there. For those are the mountains, the beautiful 
mountains we are going to see." 

" But how shall we get across the sea to them ? " 
asked Milly, with a puzzled face. 

" This is only a comer of the sea, Milly — a bay. 
Don't you remember bays in your geography ? We 
can't go across it, but we can go round it, and we 
shall find the mountains on the other side." 

Oh ! how fast the train seemed to go now that 
there was something to look at ! Everywhere moun- 
tains were beginning to spring up. And when they 
had said good-bye to the sea, the mountains began to 
grow taller and taller. What had happened to the 
houses too ? They had all turned white or gray • 
there was no red one left. And the fields had stone 



^ 



A JOURNEY NORTH. 29 

walls instead of hedges ; and inside the walls there 
were small sheep, about as big as the lambs they had 
seen near Oxford in the morning. 

Oxenholme, Kendal, Windermerk How glad 
the tired children were when the train ran slowly 
down into Windermere station, and they could jump 
out and say good-bye to it for a long long time ! 
They had to wait a little, till father had found all the 
boxes and put them in the carriage that was waiting 
for them, and then in they tumbled, nurse having 
first wrapped them up in big shawls, for it was 
evening now, and the wind had grown cold. That 
was a nice drive home among the mountains ! How 
tall and dark and quiet they were. And what was 
this shining on their left hand, like a white face 
running beside them, and peeping from behind the 
trees ? Why it was a lake ; a great wide lake, with 
tiny boats upon it, some with white sails and some 
without. 

" Mother! mother! may we go in those boats some 
day V* shouted Oily in a little sharp tired voice, and 
his mother smiled at him and said — "Yes, very 
likely." 

How happy mother looked ! She knew all the 
mountains like old friends, she could tell all their 



30 MILLY AND OLLY. 

names; and every pow and then, when they came to 
a house, she and father would begin to talk about 
the people who lived in it, just as if they were 
talking about people they knew quite welL And 
now came a little town, the town of Wanwick 
mother called it, right among the mountains, with a 
river running round it, and a tall church spira It 
began to get darker and darker, and the trees hung 
down over the road, so that the children could hardly 
see. On they went, and Oily was very nearly asleep 
again, when the carriage began to crunch over gravel, 
and then it stopped, and father called out — " Here 
we are, children, here we are at Eavensnest." 

And out they aU jimiped. What were those 
bright lights shining ? Oily and Milly hardly knew 
where they were going as nurse took them in, and 
one of Uncle Eichard's servants showed them the 
way upstairs to the nursery. Such a nice nursery, 
with candles lit, and a little fire burning, two bowls 
of hot bread and milk on the table, and in the 
comer two little white beds, as soft and fresh as 
nests ! In twenty minutes Oily was in one of these 
little white beds, and Milly in the other. And you 
may guess whether they were long about going to 
sleep. 



I 



EAVENSNEST. 31 



CHAPTEE III. 

RAVENSNEST. 

" Poor little souls ! How late they are sleeping. 
They must have been tired last night." 

So said nurse at eight o'clock, when she came back 
into the nursery from a journey to the kitchen after 
the breakfast things, and found the children stiU fast 
asleep ; so fast that it looked as if they meant to go 
on sleeping tiU dinner-time. 

"Milly!" she called softly, shaking her very 
gently, " Milly, it's breakfast-time, — wake up ! " 

Milly began to move about, and muttered some- 
thing about " whistles " and " hedges " in her sleep. 

Then nurse gave her another little shake, and at 
last Milly's eyes did try very hard to open — " What 
is it? What do you want, Nana ? Where are we ? — 
Oh, I know ! " 

And up sprang Milly in a second and ran to the 
window, her sleepy eyes wide open at last. "Yes, 



32 MILLY AND OLLY. 

there they are ! Come and look, Nana ! There, past 
those trees — don't you see the mountains? And 
there is father walking about; and oh! do look at 
those roses over there. Dress me quick, dress me 
quick, please, dear Nana." 

Thimip ! bump ! and there was Oily out of bed, 
sitting on the floor rubbing his eyes. Oily used 
always to jump out of bed half asleep, and then sit a 
long time on the floor waking up. Nurse and Milly 
always left him alone tiU he was quite woke up. It 
made him cross if you began to talk to him too soon. 

" Milly," said Oily presently in a sleepy voice, 
" I'm going right up the mountains after breakfast. 
Aren't you ? " 

" Wait till you see them, Master Oily," said nurse, 
taking him up and kissing him : " perhaps your little 
legs won't find it quite so easy to climb up the 
mountains as you think." 

"I can climb up three, four, — six, seven moun- 
tains," said Oily stoutly; "mountains aren't a bit 
hard. Mother says they're meant to climb up." 

" Well, I suppose it's like going up stau^ a long 
way," said MiUy, thoughtfully, pulling on her stock- 
ings. " You didn't like going up the stairs in Auntie 
Margaret's house. Oily." 



BAVENSNEST. 33 



Auntie Margaret's house was a tall London house, 
with ever so many stairs. The children when they 
were staying there were put to sleep at the top, and 
Oily used to sit down on the stairs and pout and 
grumble every time they had to go up. 

But Oily shook his obstinate little head. 

" I don't believe it's a bit like going up stairs." 

However, as they couldn't know what it was like 
before they tried, nurse told them it was no good 
talking about it. So they hurried on with their 
dressing; and presently there stood as fresh a pair of 
morning children as any one could wish to see, with 
rosy cheeks, and smooth hair, and clean print frocks, 
for Oily was still in frocks ; though when the winter 
came mother said she was going to put him into 
knickerbockers. 

And then nurse took them each by the hand and 
led them through some long passages, down a pretty 
staircase, and through a swing door, into what looked 
like a great flagged kitchen, only there was no fire- 
place in it. The real kitchen opened out of it at one 
side, and through the door came a smell of coffee and 
toast that made the children feel as hungry as little 
hunters. But their own room was straight in front, 

D 



34 MILLY AND OLLY. 

across the kitchen without a fireplace, — a tiny room 
with one krge window hung round with roses, and 
looking out on to a green lawn, 

"Nana, isn't it pretty? Nana, I think it's 
lovely ! " said Milly looking out and clapping her 
hands. And it was a pretty garden they could see 
from the window. Anup-and-downy garden, with beds 
full of bright flowers, and grass which was nearly all 
moss, and so soft that no cushion could be softer. In 
the distance they could hear a little spUsh-splash 
among the trees, which came, Milly supposed, ftom 
the river mother had told them about ; while, reaching 
up all round the house, so that they could not see 
the top of it from the window, was the green wild 
mountain itself, — the mountain of Brownholme, under 
which Uncle Eichard*s house was built. 

The children hurried through their breakfast, 
and then nurse covered them up with garden 
pinafores, and took them to the dining -rooili to 
find father and mother. Mr. and Mrs. Norton 
were reading letters when the children's curly heads 
appeared at the open door, and Mrs. Norton was 
just saying to her husband — 

"Aunt Emma sends a few lines just to welcome 
us, and to say that she can't come over to us to-day. 



RAVENSNEST. 35 



but will we aU come over to her to-morrow and have 
early dinner, and perhaps a row afterwards — 



>f 



" Oh, a row, mother, a row ! " shonted Oily, 
clambering on to his mother's knee and half- 
strangling her with his strong little arms ; " I can 
row, father said I might. Are we going to-day ? " 

" No, to-morrow, Oily, when we've seen a little bit 
of Eavensnest first. Which of you remembers Aunt 
Emma, I wonder ? " 

" I remember her," said Milly, nodding her head 
wisely ; " she had a big white cap, and she told me 
stories. But I don't quite remember her face, 
mother — ^not quite" 

"I don't remember her, not one bit," said Oily. 
"Mother, does she keep saying, 'Don't do that;' 
'Go up stairs, naughty boys,' like Jacky's aunt 
does ? " 

For the children's playfellows, Jacky and Francis, 
had an aunt living with them whom Milly and Oily 
couldn't bear. They believed that she couldn't say 
anything else except " Don't 1 " and " Go up stairs ! " 
and they were always in dread lest they should 
come across an aunt like her. 

"She's the dearest aunt in the whole world," 
said mother, "and she never says, 'Don't,' except 



36 MILLY AND OLLY. 

when she's obliged, but when she does say it little boys 
have to mind. When I was a little girl I" thought 
there was nobody like Aunt Emma, nobody who could 
make such plans or teU such splendid stories." 

"And, mother, can't she cut out card dolls?** 
asked Milly. "Don't you know those beautiful 
card dolls you have in your drawer at home — 
didn't Aunt Emma make them ? " 

" Yes, of course she did. She made me a whole 
family once for my birthday, a father and a mother, 
and two little girls and two little boys. And eitch 
of the cliildren had two paper dresses and two hats, 
one for best and one for everyday — and the mother 
had a white evening dress trimmed with red, and 
a hat and a bonnet." 

"I know, mother! they're all in your drawer 
at home, only one of the little boys has his head 
broken off. Do you think Aunt Emma would make 
me a set if I asked her ? " 

" I can't say, Milly. But I believe Aunt Emma's 
fingers are just as quick as ever they were. Now, 
children, father says he will take you out while I go 
and speak to cook. Oily, how do you think we're 
going to get any meat for you and Milly here ? 
There are no shops on the mountains." 



EAVENSNEST. 37 



"Then we'll eat fisses, — ^little fisses like those!" 
cried Oily, pointing to a plate of tiny red-spotted 
fish that father and mother had been having for 
breakfast. 

" Thank yon, Oily," said Mr. Norton, laughing ; 
" it would cost a good deal to keep you in trout, 
sir. I think well try for some plain mutton for 
you, even if we have to catch the sheep on the 
mountains ourselves. But now come along till 
mother is ready, and I'll show you the river where 
those little fishes lived." 

Out ran the children, ready to go anywhere 
and see anything in this beautiful new place, which 
seemed to them a palace of wonders. And presently 
they were skipping over the soft green grass, each 
holding one of father's hands, and chattering away 
to him as if their little tongues would never stop. 
What a hot day it was going to be ! The sky 
overhead was deep blue, with scarcely a cloud, 
they could hear nothing in the still air but the 
sleepy cooing of the doves in the trees by the 
gate, and the trees and flowers all looked as if 
they were going to sleep in the heat. 

" Father, why did that old gentleman at Willing- 
ham last week tell mother that it always rained in 



38 MILLY AND OLLY. 

the mountains?" asked Milly, looking up at the 
blue sky. 

" Well, MiUy, I'm afraid you'll find out before 
you go home that it does know how to rain here. 
Sometimes it rains and rains as if the sky were 
coming down, and aU the world were going to turn 
into water. But never mind about that now — ^it 
isn't going to rain to-day." 

Down they went through the garden, across 
the road, and into a field on the other side of 
it, a beautiful hay-field fuU of flowers, with just 
a narrow little path thi'ough it where the children 
and Mr. Norton could walk one behind another. 
And at the end of the path what do you think 
they found ? Why a chattering sparkling river, 
running along over hundreds and thousands of 
brown and green pebbles, so fast that it seemed 
to be trying to catch the birds as they skimmed 
across it. The children had never seen a river 
like this before, where you could see right to the 
very bottom, and count the stones there if you 
liked, and which behaved like a river at play, 
scraiabling and dancing and rushing along I i 
it were out for a holiday like the children them- 
selves. 



RAVENSNEST. 39 



"What do you think of that for a river, children?" 
said Mr. Norton. " Very early this morning, when 
you little sleepyheads were in bed, I got up and 
came down here, and had my bath over there, 
look — in that nice brown pool under the tree." 

" Oh, father ! " cried both the children, dancing 
round him. "Let us have our baths in the river 
too. Do ask nurse. We can have our bathing 
things on that we had at the sea, and you can come 
too and teach us to swim." 

" Well, just once perhaps, if mother says Yes, and 
it's very warm weather, and you get up very very 
early. But you won't like it quite as much as you 
think. Eivers are very cold to bathe in, and those 
pretty stones at the bottom won't feel at all nice to 
your little toes." 

" Oh, but, father," interrupted Milly, " we could 
put on our sand shoes — 



>f 



" And wouldn't we splash ! " said Oily. " Nurse 
won't let us spleish in our bath, father, she says it 
makes a mess. I'm sure it doesn't make a great 



mess." 



" What do you know about it, shrimp?" said Mr. 
Norton ; " you don't have to tidy up. Hush, isn't 
that mother calling ? Let's go and fetch her, and then 



40 MILLV AND OLLY. 



we'll po and see Uncle Kichard's farm, where th 
milk you hail fur breakfast came from. There ai€ 
three children tliere, Milly, besides cows and pigs, 
and ducks and cliickens." 

Ikck ran Milly and Oily ; and there was mother 
watching for them with a basket on her arm which 
had already got some roses IWng in it. 

" Oh, mother ! where did you get those roses ? " 

cried Milly. 

" Wheeler, the gardener, gave them to me. And 
now suppose we go first of all to see Mrs. Wheeler, 
and gardener's two little children. They live in 
that cottage over there, and the two little ones have 
just been peeping over the wall to try and get a look 
at you." 

Up clambered MiQy and Oily along a steep path 
that seemed to take them up into the mountain, 
when suddenly they turned, and there was another 
river, but such a tiny river — Milly could almost JTunp 
across it, and it was tumbling and leaping down the 
rocks on its way to the big river which they had just 
seen, as if it were a little child hurrying to its mother. 

"Why, mother, what a lot of rivers," said OUy, 
running on to a little bridge that had been bmlt 
across the little stream, and looking over. 




i 




Chaklie MiD Bessie. — Page 41. 



EAVENSNEST. 41 



" Just to begin with," said Mrs. Norton. ** You'll 
see plenty more before you've done. But I can't 
have you calling this a river, Oily. These baby 
rivers are called becks in Westmoreland — some of 
the big ones too, indeed." 

On the other side of the little bridge was the 
gardener's cottage, and in front of the door stood two 
funny fair-haired little children with their fingers in 
their mouths, staring at MiLly and OUy. One was a 
little girl who was really about Milly's age, though 
she looked much younger, and the other was a very 
small shy boy, with blue eyes and straggling yellow 
hair, and a face that might have been pretty if you 
could have seen it properly. But Charlie seemed to 
have made up his mind that nobody ever should see 
it properly. However often his mother might wash 
him, and she was a tidy woman, who liked to see her 
children look clean and nice, Charlie was always 
black. His face was black, his hands were black, his 
pinafore was sure to be covered with black marks 
ten minutes after he had put it on. Do what you 
would to him, it was no use, Charlie always looked 
as if he had just come out of the coal-hole. 

"Well, Bessie," said Mrs. Norton to the little 
girl, "is your mother in?" 



42 MILLY AND OLLY 

"Naw," said Bessie, without taking her fingers 
out of her mouth. 

" Oh, I'm sorry for that. Do you know when 
she's likely to be in ?" 

" Naw," said Bessie again, beginning to eat her 
pinafore as weU as her fingers. Meanwhile Charlie 
had been creeping behind Bessie to get out of OUy's 
way; for Oily, who always wanted to make friends, 
was trying to shake hands with him, and Charlie was 
dreadfully afraid that he wanted to kiss him too. 

" What a pity," said Mrs. Norton ; " I wanted to 
ask her a question. Come away, OUy, and don't 
tease Charlie if he doesn't want to shake hands. Can 
you remember, Bessie, to tell your mother that I 
came to see her?" 

" Yis." said Bessie. 

" And can you remember too, to ask her if she 
will let you and Charlie come down to tea with Miss 
Milly and Master OUy, this afternoon, at five 
o'clock?" 

" Yis," said Bessie, getting shyer and shyer, and 
eating up her pinafore faster than ever. 

" Good-bye then," said Mrs. Norton. 

" Good-bye, Bessie," said Milly softly, taking her 
hand. 



^ 



RAVENSNEST. 43 



Bessie stared at her, but didii't say anytliing. 

Oily having quite failed in shaking hands, was 
now trying to kiss Charlie; but Charlie wouldn't 
have it at all, and every time Oily came near, Charlie 
pushed him away with his little fists. Tliis made Oily 
rather cross, and he b^an to try with all his strength 
to make Charlie kiss him, when suddenly Charlie 
got away from him, and nmning to a pile of logs of 
wood which was lying in the yard lie climbed up the 
logs like a little squirrel and was soon at the top of 
the heap, looking down on OUy, who was very nmch 
astonished. 

" Mother, do let me climb up too ! " entreated 
Oily, as Mrs. Norton took his hand to lead him away. 
" I want to climb up krick Uke that ! Oh, do let me 
try!" 

" No, no. Oily ! come along. We shall never get 
to the farm if you stay climbing here. And you 
wouldn't find it as easy as Charlie does, I can tell 
you." 

" Why, I'm bigger than Charlie," said OUy, pout- 
ing, as they walked away. 

" But you haven't got such stout legs ; and, besides, 
Charlie is always out of doors all day long, climbing 
and poking about. I dare say he can do out-door 



( 



44 MILLY AND OLLY. 



things better than you can. You're a little town boy, 
you know." 

" Charlie's got a black face," said OUy, who was 
not at all pleased that Charlie, who was smaller than 
he was, and dirty besides, could do anything better 
than he could. 

" "Well, you see, he hasn't got a Nana always look- 
ing after him as you have." 

" Hasn't he got any Nana ? " asked Oily, looking 
as if he didn't understand how there could be little 
children without Nanas. 

" He hasn't got any nurse but his mother, and 
Mrs. Wheeler has a great deal else to do than look- 
ing after him. What would you be like, do you 
think, OUy, if I had to do all the housework, and 
cook the dinner, and mind the baby, and there 
was no nurse to wash your face and hands for 
you ?" 

" I should get just like shock-headed Peter," said 
Oily, shaking his head gravely at the idea. Shock- 
headed Peter was a dirty little boy in one of Olly's 
picture books ; but I am sure you must have heard 
about him abeady, and must have seen >the picture 
of him with his bushy hair, and his terrible long nails 
like birds' claws. Oily was never tired of hearing 



BAVEXSXEST. 45 



aboat him, and about all the other children in that 
picture book. 

"What a funny little girl Bessie is, mother!'' 
said Milly. "Do they always say Xaic and IV-s in 
this coimtry, instead of saying Xo and Yes, like we 
do?" 

" Well, most of the people that live here do," said 
Mrs. Norton. " Their way of talking sounds oild and 
queer at first, Milly, but when you get used to it you 
will like it as I do, because it seems like a part of 
the mountains." 

All this time they had been climbing up a steep 
path behind the gardener's house, and now Mr. 
Norton opened a door in a high wall and let the chil- 
dren into a beautiful kitchen-gartlen made on the 
mountain side, so that when they looked dovm from 
the gate they could see tlie chimneys of Eavensnest 
just below them. Inside there were all kinds of fruit 
and vegetables, but gooseberry bushes and the stmw- 
berries had nothing but green gooseberries and white 
strawberries to show, to OUy's great disappointment. 

"Why aren't the strawberries red, mother?" ho 
asked in a discontented voice, as if it must bo some- 
body's fault that they weren't red. " Ours at himw. 
were ripe." 



46 MILLY AND OLLY, 

"Well, Oily, I suppose tlie strawberries know 
best. All I can tell you is, that things always get 
ripe here later than at Willingham. Their summer 
begins a little later than ours does, and so every- 
thing gets pushed on a little. But there wiU be 
plenty by-and-by. And suppose just now, instead 
of looking at the strawberries, you give just one look 
at the mountains. Count how many you can see 
all round." 

"One, two, three, five," counted Oily. "What 
great big humps ! Should we be able to touch the 
sky if we got up to the top of that one, mother ? " 
and he pointed to a great blue mountain where the 
clouds seemed to be resting on the top 

" WeU, if you were up there just now, you would 
be all among the clouds, and it would seem like a 
white fog all round you. So you would be touching 
the clouds at any rate." 

OUy opened his eyes very wide at the idea of 
touching the clouds. 

"Why, mother, we can't touch the clouds at 
home ! " 

" That comes of living in a country as flat as a 
pancake," said Mr. Norton. " Just you wait till we 
can buy a tame mountain, and carry it to Willingham 



BAVENSNEST. 47 



with us. Then well put it down in tlie mitUllo of 
the garden, and the clouds will come down to sit on 
the top of it just as they do here. But now, who can 
scramble over that gate ? " 

For the gate at the other end of the ganlcn was 
locked, and as the gardener couldn't be found, ever}-- 
body had to scramble over, mother inchided. How- 
ever, Mr. Norton helped them aU over, and then they 
found themselves on a path running along the green 
mountain side. On they went, through pretty bits 
of steep hay-fields, where the grass seemed all clover 
and moon-daisies, till presently they came upon a 
small hunched-up house, with a number of sheds on 
one side of it and a kitchen-gartlen in front. This 
was Uncle Eichard's farm ; a very tiny farm, where a 
man called John Backhouse lived, with his wife and 
two little girls and a baby-boy. Except just in the 
haytime, John Backhouse had no men to help him, 
and he and his wife had to do aU the work, to look 
after the sheep and the cows, the pigs, the horse, and 
the chickens, to manage the garden and the hay- 
field, and to take the butter and milk to the people 
who wanted to buy it. When their children grew 
up and were able to help. Backhouse and his wife 
would be able to do it all very weU ; but just now, 



48 MILLY AND OLLY. 

when they were still quite small, it was very hard 
work ; it was all the farmer and his wife could do to 
make enough to keep themselves and their children 
fed and clothed. 

Milly and Oily were very anxious to see the 
farmer's children, and looked out for them in the 
garden as they walked up to the house, but there were 
no signs of them. The door was opened by Mrs. 
Backhouse, the farmer's wife, who held a fair-haired 
baby in her arms sucking a great crust of brown 
biftad ; and when Mr. and Mrs. Norton had shaken 
hands with her — "I'm sure, ma'am, I'm very pleased 
to see you here," said Mrs. Backhouse. " John told 
me you were come (only Mrs. Backhouse said 
* coom '), and Becky and Tiza went down with their 
father when he took the milk this morning, hop- 
ing they would catch a sight of your children. 
They have been just wild to see them, but I told 
them they weren't likely to be up at that time in the 
morning." 

"Where are they now?" asked Mrs. Norton. 
" Mine have been looking out for them as we came 
along." 

" WeU, ma'am, I can't say, unless they're in the 
cherry-tree. Becky! Tiza!" 



RA VENSNEST. 49 



A faint " Yis " came from the other end of the 
garden, but still Milly and Oily could see nothing 
but a big bushy cherry-tree g^o^ving where the voice 
seemed to come from. 

"You go along that path, missy, and call again. 
YouTl be sure to find them," said Mrs. Backhouse, 
pointing to the tree. " And won't you come in, ma'am, 
and rest a bit ? You'll be maybe tired with walking 
this hot day." 

So Mr. and Mrs. Norton went into the farm-house, 
and the children went hand-in-hand down the garden, 
looking for Becky and Tiza. 

Suddenly, as they came close to the cherry-tree, 
they heard a laugh and a little scuffling, and looking 
up, what should they see but two little girls perched 
up on one of the cherry-tree branches, one of them 
sewing, the other nursing a baby kitten. Both of 
them had coloured print bonnets, but the smaller 
had taken hers off and was rolling the kitten up in it. 
The little girl sewing had a sensible, sober face ; as 
for the other, she could not have looked sober if she 
had tried for a week of Sundays. It made you laugh 
only to look at Tiza. From the top of her curly head 
to the soles of her skipping little feet, she was the 
sauciest, merriest, noisiest creature. It was she who 

E 



50 MILLY AND OLLY, 

was always playing tricks on the cows and the horse, 
and the big sheep-dogs ; who liked nothing so well 
as teasing Becky and dressing up the kittens, and 
who was always tumbling into the milk-pail, or roll- 
ing downstairs, or losing herself in the woods, without 
somehow ever coming to any harm. If she and Oily 
had been left alone in the world together they must 
have come to a bad end, but luckily each of them 
had wiser people to take care of them. 

" Becky," said Milly, shyly, looking up into the tree, 
" will you come down and say how do you do to us ?" 

Becky stuck her needle in her work and scrambled 
down with a red shy face to shake hands ; but Tiza, 
instead of coming down, only climbed a little higher 
and peeped at the others between the branches. 

" We came down to the house when fayther took 
the milk this morning," said Becky. " We thought 
maybe we'd see you in the garden. Only Tiza said 
she'd run away if she did see you." 

" Why doesn't Tiza come down ? " asked OUy, look- 
ing hard up into the tree. " I want to see her." 

Thump ! What was that rattling down on OUy's 
head ? He looked down at his feet very much as- 
tonished, and saw a bunch of green cherries which 
Tiza had just thrown at him. 



k 



RAVENSNEST. 51 



"Throw some more! Throw some more!" he 
cried out, and Tiza began to pelt him fast, while 
Oily ran here and there picking them up, and every 
now and then trying to throw them back at Tiza ; 
but she was too high up for him to reach, and they 
only came rattling about his head again, 

" She won't come down," said Becky looking up at 
her sister. " Maybe she won't speak to you for two 
or three days. And if you run after her she hides in 
such queer places you can never find her." 

"But mother wants you and her to come to 
tea with us this afternoon," said Milly; "won't 
Tiza come ? " 

" I suppose mother'U make her," said Becky ; " but 
she doesn't like it. Have you been on the fell ?" 

Milly looked puzzled. "Do you mean on the 
mountain? No, not yet. We're going to-morrow 
when we go to Aunt Emma's. But we've been 
to the river with father." 

" Did you go over the stepping-stones ? " 

" No," said Milly, " I don't know what they are. 
Can we go this evening after tea ? " 

" Oh yes," said Becky, " they're just close by your 
house. Does your mother let you go in the water ? " 

Now Becky said a great many of these words 



52 MILLY AND OLLY. 

very funnily, so that Milly could hardly understand 
her. She said " doos," and " oop," and " knaw," and 
" jist," and " la-ike," but it sounded quite pretty from 
her soft little mouth, and Milly thought she had a 
very nice way of talking. 

" No, mother doesn't let us go in the water here — 
at least not imless it's very warm. We paddle when 
we go to the sea, and some day father says we may 
have our bath in the river if it's very fine." 

" We never have a bath in the river," said Becky, 
looking very much astonished at the idea. 

" Do you have your bath in the nursery like we 
do ? " asked MiUy. 

" We haven't got a nursery," said Becky, staring 
at her; "mother puts us in the toob on Saturday 
nights. I don't mind it, but Tiza doesn't like it 
a bit. Sometimes she hides when it's Saturday 
night, so that mother can't find her till it's too late." 

"Don't you have a bath except on Saturday?" 
said Milly ; " Oily and I have one every morning. 
Mother says we should get like shock-headed Peter 
if We didn't." 

" I don't know about him," said Becky, shaking 
her head. 

" He's a little boy in a picture-book. I'll show him 



BAVENSNEST. 63 



you when you come to tea. But there's mother calling. 
Come along, OUy, Tiza won't come down Becky says/* 

"She's a very rude girl," said OUy, who was 
rather hot and tired with his game, and didn't think 
it was at all fun that Tiza should always hit him 
and he should never be able to hit Tiza, " I won't 
sit next her when she comes to tea with us." 

** Tiza's only in fun," said Becky, " she's always 
like that. Tiza, are you coming down ? I am going 
to get baby out, I hear him crying just now." 

" May you take baby out all by youi'gelf ? " asked 
Milly. 

"Why, I always take him out; and I put liim to 
sleep at nights ; and mother says he won't go to sleep 
for anybody as quick as for me," said Becky proudly. 

Milly felt a good deal puzzled. It mnst be funny 
to have no Nana, 

" Will you and he," said Becky, pointing to Oily, 
" come up this afternoon and help us call the cows ? " 

" K we may," said Milly ; " who calls them ?" 

" Tiza and I," answered Becky ; " when I'm a big 
girl I shall learn how to milk, but fayther says I'm 

too little yet," 

^*I wish I lived at a farm," said Milly dis- 
consolately. 



54 MILLY AXD OLLY. 

. Becky didn't quite know what to say to this^ so 
she b^an to calL Tiza again. 

''Swish!" went something past them as quick 
as lightning. It was Tiza running to the house. 
OII7 set out to run after her as fast as he could 
run, but he came bang up against his mother 
standing at the farm-house door, just as Tiza got 
safely in and was seen no more. 

"Ah, you won't catch Tiza, master," said Mrs. 
Backhouse, patting his head; "she's a rough girl, 
always at some tricks or other — we think she ought 
to have been a boy, really." 

"Mother, isn't Becky very nice ?" said Milly, as 
they walked away. "Her mother lets her do such a 
lot of things, — nurse the baby, and call the cows, 
and make pinafores. Oh, I wish father was a farmer." 

"Well, it's not a bad kind of life when the sun 
shines, and everything is going right," said Mr. 
Norton, " but I think you had better wait a little bit 
till the rain comes before you quite make up your 
mind about it, Milly." 

But Milly was quite sure she knew enough about 
it already to make up her mind, and all the way 
home she kept saying to herself, "If I could only 
turn into a little fanner's girl ! Why don't people 
liavo fairy godmothers now like Cinderella ? ". 



OUT OX THE HILLS, 



t w 



CHAPTER TV. 

OUT OS THE HILLS. 

MiLLY and Oily, and the four liiile Wr-tmore!and 
cbildien, had a verj' pleasant t»-a t^j-jiii'.-r in the 
afternoon of the Nortons' lii:5t dav at liavensnest. 
Bessie and Charlie certainly didn't talk much; but 
Tiza, when once her mother had made her come, 
thought proper to get rid of a great deal of her 
shyness, and to chatter and romp so much that 
they quite fell in love with her, and could not be 
persuaded to go anywhere or do anything without 
her. Nurse would not let Milly and OUy go to 
call the cows, though she promised they should some 
other day; but she took the whole party down to the 
stepping-stones after tea, and great fun it was to see 
Becky and Tiza running over the stepping-skmos, 
and jumping from one stone to another like little 
fawns. Milly and Oily wanteil sorely to go to<», 
but there was no persuading Nana to let tluun go 
without their father to lisli tliem out if Umy tuinblecl 



56 HILLY AND OLLY. 

in, so they had to content themselves with dangling 
their legs over the first stepping-stone and watching 
the others. But perhaps you don't quite know what 
stepping-stones are? They are large high stones, 
with flat tops, which people put in, a little way apart 
from each other, right across a river, so that by 
stepping from one to the other you can cross to 
the opposite side. Of course they only do for little 
rivers, where the water isn't very deep. And they 
don't always do even there. Sometimes in the river 
Thora, where MiUy and OUy's stepping-stones were, 
when it rained very much, the water rose so high 
that it dashed right over the stepping-stones and 
nobody could go across. Milly and Oily saw the 
stepping-stones covered with water once or twice 
while they were at Eavensnest; but the first evening 
they saw them the river was very low, and the 
stones stood up high and dry out of the water. 
Milly thought that stepping-stones were much nicer 
than bridges, and that it was the most amusing and 
interesting way of getting across a river that she 
knew. But then Milly was inclined to think every- 
thing wonderful and interesting at Eavensnest — 
from the tall mountains that seemed to shut them 
in all around like a wall, down to the tiny gleaming 



OUT ON THE HILLS. 



wild strawberries, that were just beginnin;^ to sliow 
their little scarlet baUs on the banks in the IJiivens- 
nest woods. Both she and Oily went to bod after 
their first day at Ravensnest witli their little hoart.s 
full of happiness, and their little heads full of pliins. 
To-morrow they were to go to Aunt Emma s?, and 
perhaps the day after that father would take them 
to bathe in the river, and nurse would let them <^'o 
and help Becky and Tiza call the cows. Holidays 
were nice; still geography lessons were nice too 
sometimes, thought Milly, sleepily, just as she was 
slipping, slipping away into dreamland, and in her 
dreams her faithful little thoughts went back lovingly 
to Eraulein's kind old face, and to the capes and 
islands and seas she had been learning about a week 
ago. 

The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Norton were busy 
indoors till about twelve o'clock ; and the children 
wandered about the garden with nurse, finding out 
many new nooks and corners, especially a delightful 
steep path which led up and up into the woods, till 
at last it took the children to a little brown summer- 
house at the top, where they could sit and look over 
the trees below, away to the river and the hay-fields, 
and the mountains. And between the stones and this 



\ 



58 MILLY AND OLLY. 

path grew the prettiest wild strawberries — only, as 
Milly said, it was not much good looking for 
them yet, for there were so few red ones you could 
scarcely get enough to taste what they were like. 
But in a week or two, she and Oily planned that 
they would take up a basket with some green leaves 
in it, and gather a lot for father and mother — enough 
for regular dessert, — and some wild raspberries too, 
for these also grew in the wood, to the great delight 
of the children, who had never seen any before. 
They began to feel presently as if it would be nothing 
very extraordinary to find trees covered with barley 
sugar or jam tarts in this wonderful wood. And as 
for thB flowers Milly gathered for her mother, they 
Were a sight to see — moon-daisies and meadow-sweet, 
wild roses and ragged-robins, and bright bits of rhodo- 
dendron. For both the woods and the garden at 
Eavensnest were full of rhododendrons of all colours, 
pink and red, and white and flame colour ; and Milly 
and OUy amused themselves with making up bunches 
of different coloured flowers with as many different 
colours in them as they could find. There were no rho- 
dodendrons at Willingham ; and the children thought 
them the loveliest, gayest things they had ever seen. 
But at last twelve o'clock came. Nurse tidied the 



OUT ON THE HILLS, 59 

children, gave them some biscuits and milk, and 
then sent them to the drawing-room to find father 
and mother. Only Mrs. Norton was there, but she 
said there was no need to wait for father, as he was 
out already and would meet them on the way. Tliey 
were to go straight over the mountain instead of 
walking round by the road, which would have taken 
much longer. So off they set — Oily skii^ping, and 
chattering as he always did; while Milly stuck close 
to her mother, telling her every now and then, when 
OUy left off talking, about their morning in the wood, 
the flowers they had gathered and the strawberries 
they had found. At the top of the garden was a 
little gate, and beside the gate stood Bessie and 
Charlie, who had really been watching for the 
children all the morning, though they didn't dare to 
come into the garden without leave. 

" Bessie, we are going to Aunt Emma's," said Milly, 
running up to them. " Where are you and Charlie 
going to ? " 

"Na where," said Bessie, who, as usual, had her 
pinafore in her mouth, and never said more than one 
word at a time if she could help it. 

" Nowhere 1 what do you do all the morning, 
Bessie ? " 



i 



60 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" I doan't know," said Bessie, gravely looking up 
at her ; " sometimes I mind the baby." 

" Do you mind the baby, too ? Dear, dear ! And 
what does Charlie do ? " 

" Nawthing," said Bessie again. " He only makes 
himself dirty." 

"Don't you go to school ever ? " 

" No, but mother's going to send us," said Bessie, 
whose big eyes grew round and frightened at the idea, 
as if it was a dreadful prospect. " Are you going to 
be away for all day ? " 

"Yes; we shan't be back till quite evening, 
mother says. Here she is. Good-bye, Bessie ; good- 
bye, Charlie. Will you come and play with us 
to-morrow morning ? " 

Bessie nodded, but Charlie ran off without an- 
swering; for he saw Oily coming, and was afraid 
he might want to kiss him. On the other side of the 
gate they had to begin to climb up a steep bit of soft 
green grass ; and very hard work it was. After quite 
a little way the children began to puff and pant like 
two little steam-engines. 

" It is a little bit like going upstairs, don't you 
think. Oily? " said Milly, sitting down by her mother 
on a flat bit of gray stone. 




OUT ON THE HILLS. 61 

" No, it isn't a bit like going upstairs," said Oily, 
shaking his head ; for Oily always liked contradicting 
Milly if he could. " It's like — it's like — walking up 
a house ! " 

Suddenly they heard far above them a shout of 
" Hullo ! " Both the children started up and looked 
about them. It was like father's voice, but they 
couldn't see him anywhere. 

" Where are you, father? " 

" Hullo I " again. And tliis time it sounded much 
nearer to them. "Where could it be ? The children 
began to run about and look behind the bushes and 
the rocks, till all of a sudden, just as Milly got near 
a big rock, out jumped Mr. Norton from behind it 
with a great shout, and began to run after her. 
Away ran Milly and OUy as fast as their small feet 
could carry them, up and down, up and down, till at 
last there came a steep place — one of MiUy's feet 
tripped up, down she went, rolling over and over — 
down came Oily on the top of her, and the two of 
them rolled away together till they stopped at the 
bottom of the steep place, all mixed up in a heap of 
legs and arms and hats and pinafores. 

" Here's a boy and girl tied up in a knot," said 
Mr. Norton, scrambling down after them and lifting 
them up. " There's no harm done, is there ? " 



i 



62 MILLY AND OLLY. 



" I've got a bump on my arm," said Milly, turning 
up her sleeve. 

" And I Ve got a scratch on my nose," said Oily, 
rubbing it. 

"That's not much for a nice tumble like that," 
said Mr. Norton; " you wouldn't mind another, would 
you, MiUy ? " 

"Not a bit," said Milly, merrily skipping along 
beside him. " Hide again, father." 

"Another day, — not now, for we want to get to Aunt 
Emma's. But to-morrow, if you like, we'll come up 
here and have a capital game. Only we must choose 
a nice dry place where there are no bogs." 

" What are bogs ? " asked OUy. 

" Wet places, where your feet go sinking deeper 
and deeper into the mud, and you can't find any stiff 
firm bit to stand on. Sometimes people sink down 
and down into a bog till the mud comes right over 
their head and face and chokes them; but we haven't 
got any bogs as bad as that here. Now, children, 
step along in front. Very soon we shall get to 
the top of the mountain, and then we shall see 
wonderful things on the other side." 

So Milly and OUy ran on, pushing their way 
through the great tall fern, or scampering over the 



OUT ON THE HILLS. 63 

short green grass where the Kttle mountain sheep 
were nibbling, and where ^ beautiful creeping moss 
grew all over the. ground, which, mother told Milly, 
was called "Stags' horn moss," because its little 
green branches were so like stags' horns. 

" Now look, children," shouted their father to them 
from behind. "Here we are at the top." 

And then, all of a sudden, instead of only the green 
mountain and the sheep, they could see far away on 
the other side of the mountain. Tliere, all round 
them, were numbers of other mountains ; and below, 
at their feet, were houses and trees and fields, while 
straight in front lay a great big blue lake stretcliing 
away ever so far, till it seemed to be lost in the sky. 

" Look, look, mother ! " cried MiUy, clapping her 
hands, " there's Windermere lake, the lake we saw 
when we were coming from the station. Look at 
that steamer, with all the people on board ! What 
funny little black people. And oh, mother, look at 
that little boat over there ! How can people go out 
in such a weeny boat as that ? " 

" It isn't such a weeny boat, Milly. It only looks 
so small because it's such a long way off. When 
father and I take you and Oily on the lake, we shall 
go in a boat just like that. And now, instead of 




64 MILLY AND OLLY 

looking so far away, look just down here below you, 
and tell me what you see." 

"Some chinmeys, and some trees, and some smoke — 
ever so far down," shouted the children. " Is it a 
house, mother ? " 

" That's Aunt Emma's house, the old house where 
I used to come and stay when I was a little girl, and 
when your dear great-grandfather and great-grand- 
mother were alive. I used to think it the nicest 
place in the world." 

" Were you a very little girl, mother, and were you 
ever naughty ? " asked MiUy, slipping her Uttle hand 
into her mother's, and beginning to feel rather tired 
with her long walk. 

"Tm, afraid I was very often naughty, Milly. I 
used to get into great rages and scream, till everybody 
was quite tired out. But Aunt Emma was very good to 
me, and took a great deal of pains to cure me of going 
into rages. Besides, it always did naughty children 
good to live in the same house with great-grand- 
mamma, and so after a while I got better. Take care 
how you go, children, it's very steep just here, and 
you might soon tumble over on your noses. OUy, 
take care ! take care ! where are you going ? " 

Where, inde,ed, was Oily going? Just the mo- 



OUT ON THE HILLS. 66 

ment before the little man had spied a lovely flower 
growing a little way oflf the path, in the middle of 
some bright yellow-green moss. And without think- 
ing of anything but getting it, off he rushed. But 
oh ! splish, splash, splish, down went Olly's feet, up 
splashed the muddy water, and there was OUy stuck 
in a bog. 

"Father, pull me out, pull me out!" cried the 
little boy in terror, as he felt his feet stuck fast 
But almost before he could speak there was father 
close beside him, standing on a round little hump of 
dry grass which was sticking up out of the bog, and 
with one grip he got hold of Oily under his arm, and 
then jump I on to another little hump of grass— 
jump ! on to another — and there they were safe on 
the path again. 

"Oh, you black boy!" cried father and mother 
and Milly all together. Was there ever such a little 
object I All his nice clean holland frock was splashed 
with black mud ; and what had happened to his stock- 
ings? 

" IVe got mud-stockings on," shouted Oily, caper- 
ing about, and pointing to his legs which were caked 
with mud up to his knees. 

"You're a nice respectable boy to take out to 

F 



66 MILLY AND OLLY. 



dinner," said Mrs. Norton. " I think we'll leave you 
on the mountain to have dinner with the sheep." 

" Oh no, father," pleaded Milly, taking Oily fast by 
the hand. " We can wash him at Aimt Emma's, you 
know." 

"Don't go too close to him, Milly!" exclaimed 
Mrs. Norton, " or you'll get as black as he is. We 
shall have to put him under the pump at Aunt 
Emma's, that's quite certain. But there's nothing to 
wash him with here, so he must just go as he is for 
a bit. Now, OUy, run along and your feet will soon 
dry. Father's going first, you go next, just where he 
goes, I'm coming after you, and Milly shall go last. 
Perhaps in that way we shall get you down safe." 

" Oh, but, mother, look at my flower ! " said OUy, 
holding it up triumphantly. " Isn't it a beauty ?" 

" ShaU I tell you what it's called. Oily ? It's 
called a butterwort, and it always grows in boggy 
places ; I wouldn't ad\d3e you to go after one again 
without asking father first." 

It was a very different thing going down the 
mountain from climbing up it. It seemed only a few 
minutes before they had got almost to the bottom, 
and there was a gate leading into a road, and a little 
village of white houses in front of them. They walked 



OUT ON THE HILLS, 67 

up the road a little way, and then father opened a 
big gate and let them into a beautiful garden full of 
rhododendrons like the Ravensnest garden. And 
who was this walking down the drive to meet them ? 
Such a pretty little elderly lady, with gray hair and 
a white cap. 

"Dear Aunt Emma I" said Mrs. Norton, running 
up to her and taking both her hands and kissing her. 

"Well, Lucy," said the little lady, holding her 
hands and looking at her (Lucy was Mrs. Norton's 
christian name), "it is nice to see you all here. 
And there's dear little Milly, I remember her. But 
Where's Oily? I've never seen that small creature, 
you know. Come, OUy, don't be shy. Little boys 
are never shy with Aunt Emma." 

" Except when they tumble into bogs," said Mr. 
Norton, laughing, and pulling Oily forward, who was 
trying to hide his mud-stockings behind his mother. 
" There's a clean tidy boy to bring to dinner, isn't 
he, Aunt Emma? I think I'll take him to the 
yard and pump on him a little before we bring 
him in." 

Aimt Emma put up her spectacles to look at Oily. 

" Why, OUy, I think Mother Quiverquake has been 
catching hold of you. Don't you know about old 



i 



68 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Mother Quiverquake, who lives in the bogs ? Oh, I 
can tell you splendid stories about her some day ! 
But now catch hold of my hand, and keep your little 
legs away from my dress, and we'll soon make a 
proper boy of you again." 

And then Aunt Emma took one of Mill/s hands 
and one of Olly's, and up they went to the house. 
But I must start another chapter before I begin to 
tell you what the children saw in Aunt Emma's 
house, and of the happy time they spent there. 



AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC. 69 



CHAPTEE V. 

AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC. 

Instead of taking them straight into the house, how- 
ever, Aunt Emma took the children up a little shady 
path which very soon brought them to a white 
cottage covered with honeysuckle and climbing roses. 

"This is where my coachman's wife lives," said 
Aunt Emma, " and she owns a small boy who might 
perhaps find you a pair of stockings, Oily, to put on 
while your own are washed." 

OUy opened his brown eyes very wide at the idea 
of wearing some other little boy's stockings, but he 
said nothing. 

Aunt Emma tapped at the door, and out came a 
stout kind-looking woman. 

" ilrs. Tyson, do you think your Johnny could lend 
my little nephew a pair of his stockings while we get 
his own washed? Master Oily has been tumbling 
into a bog by way of making friends with the moun- 




70 MILLY AND OLLY. 

tains, and I don't quite know how I am to let those 
legs into my dining-room." 

" Dear me, ma'am, but Johnny 11 be proud if he's 
got any clean, but I'll not answer for it. Won't ye 
come in ?" 

In they walked, and there was a nice tidy kitchen, 
with a wooden cradle in the comer, and a little 
fair-haired boy sitting by it and rocking the baby. 
This was Johnny, and Oily looked at him with great 
curiosity. "I've got bigger legs than Johnny," he 
whispered solemnly at last to Aunt Emma, while they 
were waiting for Mrs. Tyson, who had gone upstairs 
to fetch the stockings. 

"Perhaps you eat more bread and milk than 
Johnny does," said Aunt Emma, very solemnly too. 
"However, most likely Johnny's stockings will stretch. 
How's the baby, .Johnny ?" 

" She's a great deal better, ma'am," said the little 
boy, smiling at her. Milly and OUy made him feel 
shy, but he loved Aunt Emma, 

" Have you been taking care of her all the morning 
for mother ?" 

" Yes, ma'am, and she's never cried but once," said 
Johnny proudly. 

" Well done ! Ah ! there comes Mrs. Tyson. 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 71 



Now, OUy, sit up on that chair, and we'll see to 
you." 

Off came the dirty stockings, and Mrs. Tyson 
slipped on a pair of woollen socks that tickled OUy 
very much. They were very thick, and not a bit like 
his own stockings ; and when he got up again he kept 
turning round and round to look at his legs, as if 
he couldn't make them out. 

"Do they feel funny to you?" said Mrs. Tyson, 
patting his shoulder. "Never you mind, little 
master ; I know they're nice and warm, for I knitted 
them myself." 

"Mother buys our stockings in the shop," said Oily, 
when they got outside again; "why doesn't Mrs. 
Tyson?" 

"Perhaps we haven't so many shops, or such nice 
ones here. Oily, as you have at Willingham ; and the 
people here have always been used to do a great many 
things for themselves. Some of them live in such 
lonely places among the mountains that it is very 
difficult for them to get to any shops. Not very long 
ago the mothers used to make all the stuffs for their 
own dresses and their children's. What would you 
say, Milly, if mother had to weave the stuff for it 
every time you had a new dress ?" 



72 HILLY AND OLLY, 



"Mother wouldn't give me a great many new 
dresses/' said Milly, gravely, shaking her head. "I 
like shops best, Aunt Emma." 

"Well, I suppose it's best to like what we've got," 
said Aunt Emma, laughing. 

Indoors, Olly's muddy stockings were given to 
Aunt Emma's maid, who promised to have them 
washed and dried by the time they had to go home, 
and then, when Mrs. Norton had covered up the black 
spots on his frock with a clean pinafore she had 
brought with her, OUy looked quite respectable again. 

The children thought they had never seen quite 
such a nice house as Aunt Emma's. First of all it 
had a large hall, with all kinds of corners in it, just 
made for playing hide-and-seek in; and the drawing- 
room was full of the most delightful things. There 
were stuffed birds in cases, and little ivory chessmen 
riding, upon ivory elephants. There were picture- 
books, and there were mysterious drawers fuU of 
cards and puzzles, and glass marbles and old-fashioned 
toys, that the children's mother and aunts and uncles, 
and their great-aunts and uncles before that, had 
loved and played with years and years ago. On the 
walls hung a great many pictures, some of them of 
funny little stiff boys in blue coats with brass buttons. 



A UNT EMMA '8 PIONIG. 73 

and some of them of little girls with mob-caps and 
mittens, and these little boys and girls were all either 
dead now, or elderly men and women, for they were 
the great-aunts and uncles ; and over the mantelpiece 
himg a picture of a lovely old lady, with bright soft 
brown hair and smiling eyes and lips, that looked as 
if they were just going to speak to the two strange 
little children who had come for their first visit to 
their mother^s old home. Milly knew quite well that 
it was a picture of great-grandmamma. She had seen 
others like it before, only not so large as this one, 
and she looked at it quietly, with her grave blue eyes, 
while Oily was eagerly wandering round the room, 
spying into everything, and longing to touch this, that, 
and the other, if only mother woidd let go his hand. 

"You know who that is, don't you, little woman ?" 
said Aunt Emma, taking her up on her knee. 

"Yes," said Milly, nodding; "it's great-grand- 
mamma. I wish we could have seen her." 

" I wish you could, MiUy. She would have smiled 
at you as she is smiling in the picture, and you would 
have been sure to have loved her ; all little children 
did. I can remember seeing your mother, Milly, 
when she was about as old as you, cuddled up in a 
comer of that sofa over there, in "grandmamma's 



74 MILLY AND OLLY. 



pocket," as she used to call it, listening with all her 
ears to great-grandmamma's stories. There was one 
story called * Leonora ' that went on for years and 
years, till all the little children in it — and the little 
children who listened to it — ^were almost grown up ; 
and then great-grandmamma always carried, about 
with her a wonderful blue-silk bag full of treasures, 
which we used to be allowed to turn out whenever 
any of us had been quite good at our lessons for a 
whole week/* 

"Mother has a bag like that," said Milly ; "it has 
lots of little toys in it that father had when he was a 
little boy. She lets us look at it on our birthdays. 
Can you teU stories, Aunt Emma ?" 

"TeU us about old Mother Quiverquake," cried 
Oily, running up and climbing on his aunt's knee. 

"Oh dear, no !" said Aunt Emma; "it's much too 
fine to-day for stories — ^indoors, at any rate. "Wait till 
we get a real wet day, and then we'll see. After 
dinner to-day, what do you think we're going to do ? 
Suppose we have a row on the lake to get water-lilies, 
and suppose we take a kettle and make ourselves 
some tea on the other side of the lake — what would 
you say to that, Master Oily ?" 

The children began to dance about with delight 




AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIO. 75 

at the idea of a row and a picnic both together, 
when suddenly there was a knock at the door, and 
when Aunt Emma said "Come in!" what do you think 
appeared ? Why, a great green cage, carried by a 
servant, and in it a gray parrot, swinging about from 
side to side, and cocking his head wickedly, first over 
one shoulder and then over the other. 

"Now, children," said Aunt Emma, while the 
children stood quite still with surprise, "let me 
introduce you to my old friend, Mr. Poll Parrot. 
Perhaps you thought I lived aU alone in this big 
house. Not at alL Here is somebody who talks to 
me when I talk to him, who sings and chatters and 
whistles and cheers me up wonderfully in the winter 
evenings, when the rains come and make me feel 
duU Put him down here, Margaret," said Aunt 
Emma to the maid, clearing a smaU table for the 
cage. " Now, OUy, what do you think of my parrot?" 

" Can it talk ?" asked Oily, looking at it with very 
wide-open eyes. 

" It can talk ; whether it will talk is quite another 
thing. Parrots are contradictious birds. I feel very 
often as if I should like to beat Polly, he's so pro- 
voking. Now, PoUy, how are you to-day ?" 

" Polly's got a bad cold ; fetch the doc " said 




76 MILLY AND OLLY. 

the bird at once, in such a funny cracked voice, that 
it made Oily jump, as if he had heard one of the 
witches in Grimm's Fairy Tales talking. 

" Come, PoUy, that's very well behaved of you ; 
but you mustn't leave off in the middle, — ^begin again. 
Oily, if you don't keep your fingers- out of the way 
Polly will snap them up for his dinner. Parrots like 
fingers very much." 

Oily put his hands behind his back in a great 
hurry, and mother came to stand behind him to keep 
him quiet. By this time, however, Polly had begun 
to find out that there were some new people in the 
room he didn't know, and for a long time Aunt Emma 
could not make him talk at alL He would do 
nothing but put his head first on one side and then 
on the other and make angry clicks with his beak. 

" Come, Polly," said Aunt Emma, " what a cross 
parrot you are. One — two — three — ^four. Now, Polly, 
count." 

" Polly's got a bad cold, fetch the doc " said 

Polly again while Aunt Emma was speaking; "One 
— two — six — seven — eight — nine — two — Quick 
march !" 

And then Polly began to lift up first one claw and 
then the other as if he were marching, while the 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNia 77 

children shouted with laughter at his ridiculous ways 
and his gruff cracked voice. 

Then Aunt Emma went behind him and rapped 
gently on the table. The parrot stopped marching, 
stuck his head on one side and listened. Aunt 
Emma rapped again. 

"Ck)me in!" said the parrot suddenly, quite 
softly, as if he had turned into quite another person. 
" Hush' — sh — sh, cat's got a mouse ! " 

** Well, Polly," said Aunt Emma, " I suppose she 
may have a mouse if she likes. Is that all youVe 
got to teU us ? Polly, where's gardener ? " 

"Get away! get away!" screamed Polly, while 
all his feathers began to stand up straight, and his 
eyes looked fierce and red like two Uttle Uve coals. 

" That always makes him cross," said Aunt Emma ; 
"he can't bear the gardener. Come, PoUy, don't 
get in such a temper." 

" Oh, isn't he like the witches on the broomsticks 
in our fairy-book. Oily?" cried Milly. "Don't you 
think. Aunt Emma, he must have been changed into 
something? Perhaps he was a wicked witch once, or 
a magician, you know, and the fairies changed him 
into a parrot." 

Well, Milly, I can't say. He was a parrot when 




78 MILLY AND OLLY. 

I had him first, twelve years ago. That's all I know 
about it. But I believe he's very old. Some people 
say he's older than I am — ^think of that ! So you 
see he's had time to be a good many things. Well, 
Polly, good-night. You're not a nice bird to-night at 
aU. Take him away, Margaret." 

" Jane ! Jane ! " screamed PoUy, as the maid 
lifted up the cage again. " Make haste, Jane ! cat's 
in the larder ! " 

" Oh you bad Polly," said Aunt Emma, " you're 
always telling tales. Jane's my cook, MiUy, and 
Polly doesn't Hke cats, so you see he tries to make 
Jane believe that our old cat steals the meat out of 
the larder. Good-bye, Polly, good-bye. You're an 
ill-natured old bird, but I'm very fond of you aU the 
same." 

"Do get us a parrot, mother!" said Oily, jumping 
about round his mother, when PoUy was gone. 

"How many more things will you want before 
you get home. Oily, do you think ? " asked his mother, 
kissing him. " Perhaps you'U want to take home a 
few mountains, and two or three little rivers, and a 
bog or two^ and a few sheep— eh, young man ? " 

By this time dinner was ready, and there was the 
dinner-bell ringing. Up ran the children to Aunt 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 79 

Emma's room to get their hands washed and their 
hair brushed, and presently there were two tidy little 
folks sitting on either side of Aunt Emma's chair, and 
thinking to themselves that they had never felt quite 
so hungry before. But hungry as Milly was she 
didn't forget to look out of window before she 
began her dinner, and it was worth while looking 
out of window in Aunt Emma's dining-room. 

Before the windows was a green lawn, like the 
lawn at Eavensnest, only this lawn went sloping 
away, away tiU there was just a little rim of white 
beach, and then beyond came the wide dancing blue 
lake, that the children had seen from the top of the 
mountain. Here it was close to them, so close that 
Milly could hear the little waves plashing, through 
the open window. 

" Milly," whispered Aunt Emma when they were 
all waiting for pudding, " do you see that little house 
down there by the water s edge ? That's where the 
boat lives — we call it a boat-house. Do you think 
youll be frightened of the water, little woman ? " 

" No, I don't think so," said Milly, shaking her 
little wise head gi'avely. "I am frightened some- 
times, very. Mother calls me a little goose because 
I run away from Jenny sometimes — that's our cow 



80 MILLY AND OLLY. 



at home, Aunt Emma, but then she's got «uch long 
horns, and I can't help feeling afraid." 

"Well, the lake hasn't got horns, Milly," said 
Aunt Emma, laughing, " so perhaps you vdll manage 
not to be afraid of it." 

How kind and nice Aunt Emma looked as she 
sat between the children, with her pretty soft gray 
hair, and her white cap and large white collar. Mrs. 
Norton could not help thinking of the times when 
she was a Uttle girl, and used always to insist on 
sitting by Aunt Emma at dinner-time. That was 
before Aunt Emma's hair had turned gray. And 
now here were her own little children sitting where 
she used to sit at their age, and stealing their small 
hands into Aunt Emma's lap as she used to do so 
long ago. 

After dinner the children had to sit quiet in the 
drawing-room for a time, while Aunt Emma and 
father and mother talked ; but they had picture- 
books to look at, and Aunt Emma gave them leave 
to turn out everything in one of the toy-drawers, and 
that kept them busy and happy for a long time. 
But at last, just when Oily was beginning to get 
tired of the drawer, Aunt Emma called to them from 
the other end of the room to come with her into the 



AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC, 81 

kitchen for a minute. Up jumped the children and 
ran after their aunt across the hall into the kitchen. 

" Now, children," said Aunt Emma, pointing to a 
big basket on the kitchen table, " suppose you help 
me to pack up our tea things. Oily, you go and fetch 
the spoons, and, MiQy, bring the plates one by one." 

The tea things were all piled up on the kitchen 
table, and the children brought them one after 
another to Aunt Emma to pack them carefully into 
the big basket. 

"Ain't I a useful boy. Aunt Emma?" eisked Oily 
proudly, coming up laden with a big table-cloth 
which he could scarcely carry. 

" Very useful, Oily, though our table-cloth won't 
look over tidy at tea if you crumple it up like that. 
Now, MiUy, bring me that tray of bread and the 
little bundle of salt ; and. Oily, bring me that bit of 
butter over there, done up in the green leaves, but 
mind you carry it carefully. Now for some knives 
too ; and there are the cups and saucers, MiUy, look, 
in that corner ; and there is the cake all ready cut up, 
and there is the bread and butter. Now have we 
got everything ? Everything, I think, but the kettle, 
and some wood and some matches, and these must 
go in another basket." 

G 



i 



88 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" Aunt Emma," said Milly, creeping up close to 
her, " were you ever a fairy godmother ? " 

" Not that I know of, Milly. Would you like me 
better if I had a wand and a pair of pet dragons, like 
old Fairy Blackstick ? " 

"No," said Milly, stroking her aunt's hand, 
" but you do such nice things,— -just like fairy god- 
mothers do." 

" Do I, little woman ? Aunt Emma likes doing 
nice things for good children. But now come along 
— ^it's quite time we were off. Let us go and • fetch 
father and mother. Gardener will bring the 
baskets." 

Such a merry party they were, trooping down to 
the boat-house. There lay the boat; a pretty new 
boat, painted dark blue, with a little red flag floating 
at her bows, and her name, " Ariel," written in large 
white letters on the stem. And all around the 
boat-house stretched the beautiful blue water, so 
clear and sunny and sparkling that it dazzled Milly's 
eyes to look at it. She and OUy were lifted into the 
boat beside Aunt Emma and mother, father sat in 
the middle and took the oars, while gardener put the 
baskets into the stem, and then, untying the rope 
which kept the boat tied into the boat-house, he 



A UNT EMMA 'S PICNIC. 83 

gave it a good push with one hand and off she went 
out into the blue lake, rising up and down on the 
water like a swan. 

"Oh! mother, mother, look up there," shouted 
Oily, " there's the mountain. Isn't that where we 
climbed up this morning ? " 

Yes, there it was, the beautiful green rocky- 
mountain, rising up above Aunt Emma's house. 
They could see it all so clearly as they got farther 
out into the lake ; first the blue sky, then the moun- 
tain with the little white dots on it, which MiUy 
knew were sheep ; then some trees, and in front. 
Aunt Emma's house with the lawn and the boat- 
house. And as they looked all round them they could 
see far bigger and grander mountains than Brown- 
holme, some near and green like Brownholme, and 
some far away and blue like the sky, while down by 
the edge of the lake were hay-fields full of flowers, or 
bits of rock with trees growing on the top of them. 
The children hardly knew what it was made them 
so quiet ; but I think it was because everything was 
so beautifuL They were really in the hill-fairies' 
palace now. 

"Aren't there any water-fairies in this lake, 
mother ? " whispered Milly, presently, looking down 



i 



84 MILLY AND OLLY. 

into the clear blue water and trying to see the 
bottom. 

" I can't tell, Milly — I never saw any. But there 
used to be water-fairies in old days. After tea sup- 
pose we ask Aunt Emma to tell us a story about a 
king in olden times whom the water fairies loved ; 
she used to teU it to me when I was small, and I 
liked it best of all stories. But, Oily, you must sit 
still, or the boat wiU go tipping over to one side, and 
father won't be able to row." 

" Do let me row, father," begged Oily. 

" Not yet, old man — I must get used to the boat 
first, and find out how to manage her, but presently 
you shall come and try, and so shall Milly if she 
likes." 

On they rowed, farther and farther from the 
shore, tiU Aunt Emma's house began to look quite 
small, and they could hardly see the gardener work- 
ing on the lawn. 

"Father, what a long way we've come," cried 
Milly, looking all round. "Where are we going 
to?" 

"Well, presently, MiUy, I am going to turn the 
boat a little bit, so as to make her go over to that 
side of the lake over there. Do you see a big rock 



A UNT EMMA 'S PIGNIO, 85 

with some trees on it, far away, sticking out into the 
lake ? " 

" Yes," said the children, looking very hard. 

" Well, that's where we're going to have tea. It's 
called Birdsnest Point, because the rocks come out in 
a point into the lake. But first I thought I would 
bring you right out into the middle of the lake, that 
you might see how big it is, and look at the moun- 
tains aU round." 

"Father," said Oily, "if a big stone feU down out 
of the sky and made ever such a big hole in the 
boat, and the water came into the hole, should we 
aU be dead ? " 

" I dare say we should. Oily, for I don't think I 
could carry mother, and Aunt Emma, and MiUy, and 
you on my back, safe home again, and you see none 
of you can swim but me." 

"Then I hope a big stone won't come," said 
Milly, feeling just a little bit frightened at Olly's 
suggestion. 

"Well, big stones don't grow in the sky generally, 
Milly, if that's any comfort to you. But do you 
know, one day long ago, when I was out rowing on 
this lake, I thought all of a sudden I heard some one 
shouting and screaming, and for a long time I looked 




86 MILLY AND OLLY. 

and waited, but could see nothing ; till at last I 
fancied I could see, a long distance oflf, what looked like 
a pole, with something white tied to it. And I rowed, 
and rowed, and rowed, as fast as I could, and all 
the time the shouting and screaming went on, and at 
last what do you think I saw ? I saw a boat, which 
looked as if something was dragging it down into 
the water. Part of it had already sunk down into the 
lake, and in the part which was still above the water 
there were three people sitting, a gentleman, and two 
little girls who looked about ten years old. And they 
were shouting ' Help I help ! ' at the top of their 
voices, and waving an oar with a handkerchief tied 
to it. And the boat in which they sat was sinking 
farther and farther into the water, and if I hadn't 
come up just when I did, the gentleman and the two 
little girls would have been drowned." 

"Oh, father!" cried Milly, "what made their 
boat do like that ? And did they get into yours ? " 

"There was a great hole in the bottom of their 
boat, Milly, and the water was coming through it, 
and making the boat so heavy that it was sinking 
down and down into the lake, just as a stone would 
sink if you threw it in. How the hole came there 
we never quite knew: I thought they must have 



I 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 87 

knocked their boat against a sharp rock — in some 
parts of the lake there are rocks under the water 
which you can't see — and the rock had made the 
hole ; but other people thought it had happened in 
some other way. However, there they were, and 
when I took them aU into my boat you never saw 
such miserable little creatures as the two little girls 
were. They were wet through, they were as white 
as little ghosts, and when they were safe in my boat 
they began to cry and shake so, poor little souls, 
though their father and I wrapped them up in our 
coats, that I did want their mother to come and 
comfort them." 

"Oh, but, father, you took them safe home to 
their mother, didn't you ? And do teU me what she 
said." 

" They had no mother, Milly, they had only their 
father, who was with them. But he was very good 
to them, and I think on the whole they were happy 
little girls. The Christmas after that I got a little 
parcel one morning, and what do you think was in 
it ? Why, two photographs of the same little girls, 
looking so neat and tidy and happy, I could hardly 
believe they were reaUy the same as the little 
drowned rats I had pulled out of the water. Ask 




88 MILLY AND OLLY. 

mother to show you the pictures when we get home : 
she has them somewhere. Now, OUy, would you 
like to row ? " 

" Oh, father, don't bump against any rocks," said 
MiUy, whose thoughts were very full of the Little girls. 

"Don't you trouble your head about rocks, old 
woman. I know a good deal more about this lake 
than those little girls' father did, and I won't take 
you into any harm. Come along, Oily." 

Oily was helped along the boat by mother and 
Aimt Emma tiU his father caught hold of him and 
pulled him on to his seat, where he let him put his 
two small paws on one of the oars, and try what he 
could do with it. Mr. Norton pulled too ; but Oily 
thought it was all his doing, and that it was really he 
who was making the boat go. 

"Don't we go fast, father ?" he cried out presently, 
his little face flushed with pleasure and excitement. 
" You couldn't row so fast without me, could you, 
father?" 

"You little fly-on-the- wheel," said his father, 
smiling at him. 

"What does that mean, father?" 

"Never mind — ^you'll know when you're bigger. 
But now look, children, how close we are coming to 



AUNT EMMA'S FIGNIG. 89 

the shore. And quick, Milly, quick ! What do you 
see over there?" 

Mr. Norton pointed over the water to a place 
where some green rushes were standing up out of the 
water, not very far from the edge. What were those 
great white and gold things shining among the 
rushes ; and what were those large roimd green leaves 
lying on the water all about them ? 

" Water lilies ! water lilies !" cried Milly, stamping 
her little feet with delight. " Oh, mother, look ! it 
was on one of those leaves that the old toad put 
little Tiny in my fairy book, don't you remember ? 
Only the little fishes came and bit off the stalk and 
set her free. Oh, I wish we could see little Tiny 
sitting on one of those leaves !" 

" Well," said Aimt Emma, " there's no saying what 
you may find in these parts if you look long enough. 
This is a very strange country. But now, Milly, look 
out for the lilies. Father's going to take us in 
among them, and I'll hold you, while you gather 
them." 

And presently, swish went the boat up against 
the rushes, and there were the lovely white lilies 
lying spread out on the water all round them, some 
quite open and showing their golden middles, and 



90 MILLY AND OLLY, 

some still buds, with their wet green cases just 
falling off, and their white petals beginning to un- 
close. But what slippery stalks they had! Aunt 
Emma held Milly, and father held OUy, while they 
dived their hands imder the water and pulled hard. 
And some of the lilies came out with such short bits 
of stalk you could scarcely hold them, and sometimes^, 
flop ! out came a long green stalk, like a long green 
snake curling and twisting about in the boat. The 
children dabbled, and splashed, and pulled, to their 
hearts' content, tOl at last Mr. Norton told them 
they had got enojigh, and now they must sit quite 
still while he rowed them in to the land. 

"Oh, father, just those two over there!" pleaded 
Milly, who could not bear leaving so many beauties 
behind. 

" No, Milly, no more. Look where the sun is now. 
K we don't make haste and have our tea, we shall 
never get back to Eavensnest to-night." 

MUly's face looked as if it would like to cry, 
as the boat began to move away from the rushes, 
and the beautiful lilies were left behind. I told you, 
to begin with, that Milly was ready to cry oftener 
than a sensible little girl should. But Aunt Emma 
was not going to have any crying at her picnic. 




AUNT EMMA;S PIGNIG. 91 



"Who's going to gather me sticks to make my 
fire ?" she said suddenly, in a solemn voice. 

" I am ! I am !" shouted both the children at once, 
and out came Milly's smiles again, like the sun from 
behind a cloud. 

"And who's going to lay the table-cloth ?" 

"We are! we are!" 

"And who's going to hand the bread-and-butter ?" 

" I am !" exclaimed Milly, " and Oily shall hand 
the cake." 

" And who's going to eat the bread-and-butter ?" 

"All of us!" shouted the children, and MiUy 
added, "Father will want a big plate of bread-and- 
butter, I daresay." 

" I should think he would, after all this rowing," 
said Mr. Norton. " Now then, look out for a bump !" 

Bump ! Splash ! there was the boat scraping along 
the pebbles near the shore ; out sprang Mr. Norton, 
first on to a big stone, then on to the shore, and with 
one great pull he brought the boat in tiU it was close 
enough for Aunt Emma and Mrs. Norton to step out 
on to the rocks, and for the children to be lifted out. 

"Oh! what a nice place!" cried Milly, looking 
about her, and clapping her hands, as she always did 
when she was pleased. It was a point of rock run- 



92 MILLY AND OLLY. 

ning out into the lake — a "peninsula" Milly called 
it, when she had been all round it, and it was covered 
with brown heather spread all over the ground, and 
was delightfully soft and springy to sit upon. In the 
middle of the bit of rock there were two or three 
trees standing up together, birch trees with silvery 
stems, and on every side but one there was shallow 
brown water, so clear that they could see every stone 
at the bottom. And when they looked away across 
the lake, there were the grand old moimtains pushing 
their heads into the clouds on the other side, and far 
away near the edge of the lake they saw a white dot 
which they knew was Aunt Emma's house. How 
the sun shone on everything! How it made the 
water of the lake sparkle and glitter as if it were 
alive ! And yet the air was not hot, for a little wind 
was coming to them across the water, and moving the 
trees gently up and down. 

And what was this under the trees ? Why, a kiad 
of fireplace made of stones, and in front of it a round 
green bit of grass, with tufts of heather all round 
it, just like a table with seats. 

" Who put these stones here. Aunt Emma ?" asked 
OUy, as she and mother and Mr. Norton brought up the 
baskets, and put them in the green place by the stones. 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 93 

" Well, Oily, long ago, when all your uncles and 
aunts were little, and they used to come here for 
picnics, they thought it would be very nice to have a 
stone fireplace, built up properly, so that they needn't 
make one every time. It was Uncle Eichard's idea, 
and we had such fun building it up. The little ones 
brought the stones, and the big ones piled them to- 
gether till you see we made quite a nice fireplace. 
And it has lasted ever since. Whenever I come here 
I mend it up if any of the stones have tumbled down. 
Numbers of little children come to picnic here every 
summer, and they always use our fireplace. But now, 
come along into the woods, children, and gather 
sticks." 

Oflf they ran after Aunt Emma, and soon they 
were scrambling about the wood which grew along 
the shore, picking up the dry sticks and dry fern 
under the trees. MiUy fiUed her cotton frock full, 
and gathered it up with both her hands ; while Oily 
of course went straight at the biggest branch he 
could see, and staggered along with it, puffing and 
panting. 

"You grasshopper, you!" said Mr. Norton, catch- 
ing hold of him, " don't you think you'd better try a 
whole tree next time? There, let me break it for 



94 MILLY AND OLLY. 

you." Father broke it up into short lengths, and 
then oflf ran Oily with his little skirts full to Aunt 
Emma, who was laden too with an armful of sticks. 

" That Tl do to begin with, old man. Come along, 
and you and I 'U light the fire." 

What fan it was, heaping up the sticks on the 
stones; and how they did blaze and crackle away 
when Aunt Emma put a match to them. Puflf ! puff! 
out came the smoke ; fizz — crack — splutter — ^went the 
dry fir branches, as if they were Christmas fire- 
works. 

" Haven't we made a blazey fire. Aunt Emma ? " 
said OUy, out of breath with dragging up sticks, and 
standing still to look. 

" Splendid," said Mr Norton, who had just come 
out of the wood with his bundle. " Now, OUy, let 
me just put you on the top of it to finish off. How 
you would fizz ! " 

Off ran OUy, with his father after him, and they 
had a romp among the heather tiU Mr. Norton 
caught him, and carried him kicking and laughing 
under his arm to Aunt Emma. 

" Now, Aunt Emma, shaU I put him on ? " 

"Oh dear, no!" said Aimt Emma; "my kettle 
wouldn't sit straight on him, and it's just boiling 



A UNT EMMA 'S PIGNIG. 95 

beautifully. Well put him on presently when the 
fire gets low." 

" Oily, do come and help mother and me with the 
tea-things," cried Milly, who was laying the cloth as 
busily and gravely as a little housemaid. 

" Eun along, shrimp," said his father, setting him 
down. 

And off ran Oily, while Mr. Norton and Aunt 
Emma heaped the wood on the fire, and kept the 
kettle straight, so that it shouldn't tip over and 
spill. 

Laying the cloth was delightful Milly thought. 
First of all, they put a heavy stone on each comer of 
the cloth to keep it down, and prevent the wind from 
blowing it up, and then they put the little plates all 
round, and in the middle two piles of bread-and- 
butter and cake. 

"But we haven't got any flowers," said Milly, 
looking at it presently, with a dissatisfied face ; "you 
always have flowers on the table at home, mother." 

"Why, Milly, have you forgotten your water- 
lilies; where did you leave them?" 

" Down by the water," said Milly. " Father told 
me just to put their stalks in the water, and he put a 
stone to keep them safe. Oh ! that 'U be splendid, 



96 MILLY AND OLLY. 

mother. Do give me a cup, and we'll get some 
water for them." 

Mother found a cup, and the children scrambled 
down to the edge of the lake. There lay the lilies 
with their stalks in the water, close to the boat. 

"They look rather sad, mother, don't they? " said 
Milly, gathering them up. " Perhaps they don't like 
being taken away from their home." 

" They never look so beautiful out of the water," 
said mother; "but when we get home we'll put 
them into a soup-plate, and let them swim about in 
it. They 'U look very nice then. Now, OUy, fill 
the cup with water, and we'll put five or six of the 
biggest in ; and gather some leaves." 

"There, look! look! Aunt Emma," shouted Milly, 
when they had put the lilies and some fern leaves in 
the middle of the table. "Haven't we made it 
beautiful ? " 

" That you have," said Aunt Emma, coming up 
with the kettle which had just boiled. " Kow for 
the tea, and t"hen we're ready." 

" We never had such a nice tea as this before," said 
Oily, presently looking up from a piece of bread-and- 
butter which had kept him quiet for some time. " It's 
nicer than having dinner at the railway station even." 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 97 

Aunt Emma and mother laughed ; for it doesn't 
seem so deKghtful to grown-up people to have dinner 
at the railway station. 

" Well, OUy," said mother, " I hope we shall often 
have tea out of doors while we are at Kavens- 
nest." 

Milly shook her head. " It'U rain, mother. That 
old gentleman said it would be sure to rain." 

" That old gentleman is about right, Milly," said 
Mr. Norton. " / think it rains dreadfully here, but 
mother doesn't seem to mind it a bit. Once upon a 
time, when mother was a little girl, there came a funny 
old fairy and threw some golden dust in her eyes, and 
ever since then she can't see straight when she comes 
to the moimtains. It's all right everywhere else, but 
as soon as she comes here, the dust begins to fly about 
in her eyes, and makes the mountains look quite dif- 
ferent to her from what they look to anybody else." 

"Let me look, mother," said OUy, pulling her 
down to him. 

Mrs. Norton opened her eyes at him, smiling. 

" I can't see any dust, father." 

" Ah, that's because it's fairy-dust," said Mr. Nor- 
ton, gravely. "Now, Oily, don't you eat too much 
cake, else you won't be able to row." 




98 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" It'll be my turn first, father," said Milly ; " you 
know I haven't rowed at all yet." 

"Well, don't you catch any crabs, Milly," said 
Aunt Emma. 

"Catch crabs, Aunt Emma!" said Milly, very 
much puzzled. " Crabs are only in the sea, aren't they ? " 

" There's a very big kind just about here," said 
Mr. Norton ; "and they're always looking out for little 
children, particularly little girls." 

" I don't understand, father," said Milly, opening 
her eyes very wide. 

"Have some more tea then," said Mr. Norton; 
" that always makes people feel wiser." 

"Father, aren't you talking nonsense?" said Oily, 
stopping in the middle of a piece of cake to think 
about what his father was saying. 

" Very likely. Oily. People always do at picnics. 
Aunt Emma, when are you going to tell us your story ? " 

"When we've washed the things and put them 
away," said Aunt Emma, "then Oily shall sing us two 
songs, and I'll tell you my story." 

But the children were so hungry that it was a 
long time before they gave up eating bread-and- 
butter ; and then, when at last tea ^was over, what 
fun it was washing the cups and plates in the lake! 




AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC. 99 

Aunt Emma and Oily washed, and mother and Milly 
dried the things on a towel, and then everything was 
packed away into the baskets, and mother and Aunt 
Emma folded up the tablecloth, and put it tidily on 
the top of everything. 

" I did like that," said Milly, sighing as the last 
basket was fastened down. " I wish you'd let me 
help Sarah wash up the tea-things at home, mother." 

" If Sarah liked to let you, I shouldn't say no, 
MiQy," said Mrs. Norton. "How soon would you 
get tired of it, old woman, I wonder? But come 
along, let's put Oily up on a rock, and make hinn 
sing, and then well have Aunt Emma's story." 

So they put OUy up on a taU piece of rock, and he 
sang " The Minstrel Boy," and " Bonnie Dundee," and 
" Hot Cross Buns," just as if he were a little musical 
box, and you had nothing to do but to wind him up. 
He had a sweet, clear, little voice, and he looked a 
delightful brown gipsy, as he sat perched up on the 
rock with his long legs dangling, and his curls blow- 
ing about his face. 

" There ! " said OUy, when he had shouted out the 
last note of " Hot Cross Buns." " I have singed three 
whole songs ; and now. Aunt Emma, teU us about the 
king and the fairies. Krick, please." 



100 MILLY AND OLLY. 

> 

"It must be 'krick' indeed," said Aunt Emma, 
" if we want to get home to night." 

For the sun had ahnosfc sunk behind the moun- 
tains at their back, and the wind blowing across the 
lake was beginning to get a little cold, while over 
their heads the rooks went flying, singing " caw, caw," 
on their way to bed. And how the sun was turning 
the water to gold ! It seemed to be making a great 
golden pathway across the lake, and the mountains 
were turning a deep blue ; and plash, plash, went the 
little waves on the rocks, ao softly they seemed to be 
saying " Good-night ! good-night!" 

" Well," said Aunt Emma, settling herself on a soft 
piece of heather, and putting her arms round MiUy 
and Oily, " Once upon a time there was a great king. 
He was a good king and a wise man, and he tried to 
make all the people round about him wiser and better 
than they were before he came to rule over them ; 
and for a long time he was very powerful and happy, 
and he and the brave men who helped him and were 
his friends did a great deal of good, and kept the 
savage people who lived all about him in order, and 
taught them a great many things. But at last some 
of the savage people got tired of obeying the king, 
and they said they would not have him to reign over 



AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC. 101 

them any more ; so they made an army, and they came 
together against the king to try and kill him and his 
friends. And the king made an army too, and there 
was a great battle ; and the savage people were the 
strongest, and they killed nearly all the king's brave 
men, and the king himself was terribly hurt in the 
fight. And at last, when night came on, there were 
left only the king and one of his friends — his knights, 
as they, were called. The king was hurt so much 
that he could not move, and his friend thought he 
was dying. They were left alone in a rocky desert 
place, and close by there was a great lake with moun- 
tains round it — ^like this, OUy. It was very cold, and 
the moon was shining, and the king lay so still that 
once or twice his friend almost thought that he was 
dead. But at last, about the middle of the night, he 
began to speak, and he told his friend to take his 
sword that was by his side and to go down to the 
side of the lake and throw it as far as he could into 
the water. Now, this sword was a magic sword. 
Long before, the king was once walking beside this 
lake, when he suddenly saw an arm in a long white 
sleeve rising out of the lake, and in the hand at the 
end of it was a splendid sword with a glistening 
handle. And the king got into a boat and rowed as 



102 MILLY AND OLLY, 

fast as he could till lie got near enough to take hold 
of the sword, and then the arm sank down under the 
water and was seen no more. And with the sword 
the king won a great many battles, and he loved it, 
and never would part with it ; but now that he was 
dying, he told his friend to take the sword and throw 
it back into the lake where he had found it, and see 
what would happen. And his friend took it, and 
went away over the rocks till he came to the edge of 
the lake, and then he took the sword out of its case 
and swung it above his head that he might throw it 
far into the water ; but as he lifted it up the precious 
stones in the handle shone so splendidly in the moon- 
light that he could not make up his mind to throw it 
into the water, it seemed such a pity. So he hid it 
away among the rushes by the water-side, and went 
back to the king. And the king said, 'What did you 
see by the lake V 

"And the knight said, ' I saw nothing, except the 
water, and the mountains, and the rushes.' 

"And the king said, * Oh, unkind friend ! Why 
will you not do as I ask you, now that I am dying, 
and can do nothing for myself ? Go back and throw 
the sword into the lake, as I told you.' 

"And the knight went back, and once more he lifted 



A UNT EMMA '8 PIONIG. 103 

the sword to throw it into the water ; but it looked 
so beautiful that he could not throw it away. There 
would be nothing left, he thought, to remember the 
king by when he was dead if he threw away the 
sword ; so again he hid it among the rushes, and then 
he went back to the king. And again the king asked, 
'What did you see by the lake?' and again the 
knight answered, 'I saw nothing, except the water 
and the mountains.' 

" ' Oh, unkind, false friend !' cried the king; 'you 
are crueller to me than those who gave me this 
wound. Go back and throw the sword into the water, 
or, weak as I am, I will rise up and kill you.' 

"Back went the knight, and this time he seized the 
sword without looking at it, so that he should not see 
how beautiful it was; and then he swung it once, 
twice, thrice, round his head, and away it went into 
the lake. And as it fell, up rose a hand and arm in 
a long white sleeve out of the water, and the hand 
caught the sword and drew it down under the water. 
And then for a moment, all round the lake, the knight 
fancied he heard a sound of sobbing and weeping, 
and he thought in his heart that it must be the water 
fairies weeping for the king's death. 

"* What did you see by the lake V asked the king 



104 MILLY AND OLLY. 

again, when lie came back, and the knight told him. 
Then the king told him to lift him up, and carry him 
on his back down to the edge of the lake ; and when 
they got there, what do you think they saw ?" 

But the children could not guess, and Milly pressed 
Aunt Emma's hand hard to make her go on. 

" They saw a great black ship coming slowly over 
the water, and on the ship were numbers of people in 
black, sobbing and crying, so that the air was full of 
a sound of weeping ; and in front sat three queens in 
long black dresses, and with gold crowns on their 
heads, and they, too, were weeping and wringing their 
hands. 

" * lift me up,* said the king, when the ship came 
close beside them, * and put me into the ship.' And 
the knight lifted him up, while the three queens 
stretched out their hands and drew him into the ship. 

" 'Oh, king ! take me with you,' said the knight ; 
'take me too. What shall I do all alone without 
you V But the ship began to move away, and the 
knight was left standing on the shore. Only he 
fancied he heard the king's voice saying, ' Wait for 
me ; I shall come again. Farewell !' 

"And the ship went faster and faster away into the 
darkness, for it was a fairy ship, till at last the knight 



i 



AUNT EMMA'S PIGNIG. 105 

could see it no more. So then lie knew that the king 
had been carried away by the fairies of the lake — ^the 
same fairies who had given him the sword in old days, 
and who had loved him and watched over him all his 
life. But what did the king mean by saying, * I 
shall come again ' ? " 

Then Aunt Emma stopped and looked at the 
children. 

" What did he mean, auntie ? " asked Milly, who 
had been listening with aU her ears, and whose Uttle 
eyes were wet, " and did he ever come back again V 

"Not while the knight lived, MUly. He grew 
to be quite an old man, and was always hoping that 
the fairies would bring the king again. But the 
king never came, and his friend died without seeing 
him." 

*' But did he ever come agaiQ ? " asked Oily. 

" I don't know. Oily. Some people think that he 
is still hidden away somewhere by the kind water- 
fairies, and that some day, when the world wants 
him very much, he will come back agaiQ." 

*'Do you think he is here in this lake?" whispered 
Mniy, lookiQg at the water. 

"How can we tell what's at the bottom of the 
lake ?" said Aunt Emma, smiling. " But no, I don't 



106 MILLY AND OLLY. 



think the king is hidden in this lake. He didn't 
live near here." 

" What was his name ? " asked Milly. 

" His name was King Arthur. But now, children, 
hurry; there is father putting all the baskets into 
the boat. We must get home as quick as we can." 

They rowed home very quickly, except just for a 
little time when Milly rowed, and they did not go 
quite so fast as if father were rowing alone. It was 
quite evening now on the lake, and there were great 
shadows from the mountains lying across the water. 
Somehow the children felt much quieter now than 
when they started in the afternoon. MiUy had 
curled herself up inside mother's arm, and was 
thinking a great deal about King Arthur and the 
fairy ship, while Oily was quite taken up with 
watching the oars as they dipped in and out of the 
water, and occasionally asking his father when he 
should be big enough to row quite by himsel£ It 
seemed a very little time after all before they were 
stepping out of the boat at Aunt Emma's boat-house, 
and the picnic and the row were both over. 

" Good-bye, dear lake," said Milly, turning with 
her hands full of water-lilies to look back before they 
went up to the house. " Good-night, moimtains ; 



A UNT EMMA 'S PIGNIO. 107 

good-night, Birdsnest Point I shall soon come and 
see you again." 

A few minutes more, and they were safely packed 
into a carriage which drove them back to Eavensnest, 
and Aunt Emma was saying good-bye to them. 

"Next time, I shall come and see you, MiUy," 
she said, as she kissed MiUy's little sleepy face. 
" Don't foiget me till then." 

"Then you'll tell us about old Mother Quiver- 
quake," said OUy, huggiQg her with his small arms. 
"Aunt Emma, I haven't given Johnny back his 
stockings. They did tickle me so in the boat." 

"We'U get them some time," said Aunt Emma. 
" Good-night, good-night." 

It was a sleepy pair of children that nurse lifted 
out of the carriage at Eavensnest. And though they 
tried to tell her something about it, she had to wait 
tiU next morning before she could reaUy understand 
anything about their wonderful day at Aunt Emma's 
house. 



i 



108 MILLY AND OLLY. 



CHAPTEE VI. 

WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST. 

For about a week after the row on the lake the 
weather was lovely, and Milly wondered more than 
ever what the old gentleman who warned them of 
the rain in the mountains could have been thinking 
about. She and Oily were out all day, and nearly 
every afternoon nurse lifted the tea-table through the 
low nursery window on to the lawn, and let them 
have their tea out of doors among the flowers and 
trees and twittering birds. They had found out a 
fly-catcher's nest in the ivy above the front door, 
and every evening the two children used to fetch 
out their father to watch the parent birds catching 
flies and carrying them to the hungry little ones, 
whom they could just hear chirping up above in 
the ivy. OUy was wUd to get the gardener's ladder 
that he might climb up and look into the nest, but 



WET DAYS AT RAVEN8NEST 109 

Mr. Norton would not have it lest it should frighten 
away the old birds. 

One delicious warm morning too, the children 
had their long-promised bathe ; and what fun it was I 
Nurse woke them up at five o'clock in the morning 
— fancy waking up as early as that ! and they slipped 
on their little blue bathing gowns, and theii* sand 
shoes that mother had bought them in Cromer the 
year before, and then nurse wrapped them up in 
shawls, and she and they and father went down 
and opened the front door while everybody else 
in the house was asleep, and slipped out. What 
a quiet strange world it seemed, the grass and the 
flowers dripping with dew, and overhead such a 
blue sky with white clouds sailing slowly about 
in it. 

"Why don't we always get up at five o'clock, 
father?" asked Oily, as he and Milly skipped 
along — such an odd little pair of figures — ^beside 
Mr, Norton. " Isn't it nice and funny ? " 

" Very," said Mr. Norton. " Still, I imagine. Oily, 
if you had to get up every day at five o'clock, you 
might think it funny, but I'm sure you wouldn't 
always think it nice." 

" Oh ! I'm sure we should," said Milly, seriously. 



110 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" Why, father, it's just as if everything was ours and 
nobody else's, the garden and the river I mean. Is 
there anybody up yet do you think — in those houses?'* 
And Milly pointed to the few houses they could see 
from the Eavensnest garden. 

" I can't tell, MiUy. But I'll tell you who's sure 
to be up now, and that's John Backhouse. I should 
think he's just beginning to milk the cows." 

" Oh then, Becky and Tiza 'U be up too," cried 
Milly, dancing about. " I wish we could see them. 
Somehow it would be quite different seeing them 
now, father. I feel so queer, — as if I was somebody 
else." 

If you have ever been up very early on a 
summer morning, you wiU know what Milly meant, 
but if not I can hardly explain it. Such a pretty 
quiet little walk they had down to the river. No- 
body on the road, nobody in the fields, but the birds 
chattering and the sun shining, as if they were 
having a good time all to themselves, before any- 
body woke up to interrupt them. Mr. Norton took 
the children down to the stepping-stones, and then, 
while Milly and nurse stayed on the bank he lifted 
OUy up, and carried hiTn to the middle of the 
stepping-stones, where the water would about come 



i 




' Come, Milly ; try whether you can manage the stepping- 
stones by yourself.' — Page 1 1 1. 



WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST, 111 

up to his chest. Mr. Norton had already taken off 
his own shoes and stockings, and when they came 
to the middle stone, he put Oily down on the stone, 
and stepped into the water himself. " Now, Oily ! 
give me your hands and jump in. Mind, it'll feel 
very cold." 

Oily shut his eyes, and opened his mouth, as he 
always did when he felt just a little frightened, and 
then in he went ; splash ! ugh ! it was so cold — 
much colder than the sea used to feel — but after 
a few splashes Oily began to get used to it, and 
to think it fine fun. 

" Oh, father, fetch Milly, and then we'll all dance 
about," entreated Oily. 

" Come, Milly," called Mr. Norton. " Try whether 
you can manage the stepping-stones by yourself." 
So Milly came, holding up her bathing dress, and 
stepping from one big stone to another with a very- 
grave face, as if she felt that there would be an end 
of her altogether if she tumbled in. And then, 
splash ! In she jumped by the side of Oily, and after 
a little shiver or two she also began to think that 
the river was a delightful bathing-place, almost as 
nice as the sea ; perhaps in some ways nicer, because 
it was such a funny and strange one. They danced 




112 MILLY AND OLLY. 

and splashed about in the brown sparkling water till 
they were tired, and at last OUy stopped to take breath. 

" I should think the fishes must be frightened of 
us," he said, peering down into the river. " I can't 
see any, father." 

" Well, they wouldn't choose to swim about just 
where little children are shouting and capering. The 
fishes are hidden safe away under the banks and the 
big stones. Besides, it's going to be a very hot day, 
and they like the shady bits of the river. Just here 
there's no shade." 

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the river, 
and when Mr. Norton looked round for a second he 
could see nothing of MiUy, till up came a dripping 
head and a pair of hands, and there was Milly kneel- 
ing on the stones at the bottom of the river, with just 
her head above water, looking very much astonished 
and rather frightened. 

"Why, what happened, old woman?" said Mr. 
Norton, holding out his hand to help her up. 

" I — I — don't quite know, father ; I was standing 
on a big stone, and all of a sudden it tipped up, 
and I tumbled right in." 

" First of all I thought you was a big fish, and then 
I thought you was going to be drowned," said Oily, 
cheei'fully. "I'm glad you wasn't drowned." 



WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST 113 

"Miss Milly! Miss Milly!" shouted nurse from 
the bank; "it's quite time you came out now. If 
you stay in so long you'll get cold ; and you, too, 
Master OUy." 

Oily was not inclmed to come. He would have 
liked to go on dabbling and splashing till breakfast 
time, but Mr. Norton hurried him out, and the two 
dripping little creatures were well wrapped up in 
large shawls which nurse had brought with her. 
Then nurse took up OUy in her arms, and father 
took up Milly, who was smaU and light for her age, 
and they set off up the bit of road to the house. 
By this time it was past six o'clock, and whom should 
they meet at the Eavensnest gate but John Back- 
house, with Becky and Tiza, and his two dogs. He 
was just bringing the milk, and both he and his chil- 
dren looked as brisk and wide awake as if they had 
been up and about for hours. 

Milly and OUy were very much excited at the 
sight of them ; and OUy struggled hard to get down, 
but nurse held him tight. 

" Oh, Becky ! we've had such a nice bathe," cried 
MiUy, as she passed them muffled up in her shawl, 
her Httle wet feet dangling out. 

Becky and Tiza looked longingly after them as 



114 MILLY AND OLLY. 

they disappeared into the house. They wished they 
could have had a bathe too, but they knew very well 
that their hard- worked father and mother had some- 
thing else to do on a fine summer's morning than to 
take them to bathe, and in a few minutes they had 
forgotten all about it, and were busy playing with 
the dogs, or chattering to their father about the hay- 
making, which was soon to begin now. 

That evening there were strange clouds at sunset 
time, and Mr. Norton shook his head as he heard 
Mrs. Norton arrange to take the children next day to 
a small mountain village near Eavensnest, to call on 
some old friends of hers. 

" I wouldn't make much of a plan for to-morrow 
if I were you," he said to his wife ; -" the weather 
doesn't look promising." 

" Oh, father !" said Milly, protesting. " There are 
some red clouds over there — ^lopk ; and Nana always 
says it's going to be fine when there are red clouds." 

" Well, Milly, your red clouds may be right and I 
may be wrong. We shall see." 

But, alas ! Father was quite right. When Milly 
woke up next morning there was no nice sunshine 
creeping on to her bed as it had done almost ever 
siace they came to Eavensnest; but instead there 



^ 



JFET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST. 115 

was rain beating steadily against the window, coming 
down out of a heavy gray sky, and looking as if it 
meant to go on for ever. 

"Oh dear!" sighed Milly, as she began to dress, 
" we can't go out, and the wild strawberries will get 
so wet. I meant to have gathered some for mother 
to-day. There would have been such nice ones in 
the wood." 

But it was no use thinking about woods or straw- 
berries, and when Mrs. Norton came into the chil- 
dren's room just as they were finishing breakfast, she 
found a pair of dull little faces staring out at the rain, 

as if looking at it would make it stop. 

"Nasty rain!" said Oily, climbing up on his 

mother's knee. " Go to Spain ! I don't want you to 

come and spoil my nicey time." 

"I am afraid scolding the rain won't make it go 

away," said his mother, smiling into his brown face 

as he knelt on her lap, with his arms round her neck. 

" Now what are we going to do to-day ?" 

" I don't know," said Milly, sitting down opposite 

her mother, and resting her face gravely on her hands. 

"Well, we brought some toys you know, mother. 

Oll/s got his top ; I can help him spin it, and I can 

play with Katie a bit." 



116 MILLY AND OLLY, 

" That won't take very long," said Mrs. Norton. 
" Suppose we do some lessons first of all." 

"Oh, mother, lessons!" said Milly, in a very 
doubtful voice. 

" It's holidays, mother ; it's holidays," cried OUy. 
" I don't like lessons — not a bit." 

" Well, but. Oily, think a bit ; you can't spin your 
top and look at picture-books all day ; and I'm afraid 
it's going to rain all day — it looks very like it. If 
you come and do some reading and counting with 
me this morning, I can give you some spills to make, 
or some letters to tear up for me afterwards. That 
wiU save the toys for this afternoon ; and some time 
this afternoon, if it doesn't stop raining, we'll all have 
a romp. And as for you, Milly, don't you think it's 
quite time Katie had a new frock ? I believe I can 
find a beautiful bit of blue silk in my bag ; and I'm 
sure nurse will show you how to make it." 

Milly's face brightened up very much at this, and 
the two children went skipping upstairs to the draw- 
ing-room after their mother, in very fair spirits again. 
Oily did some reading, while Milly wrote in her copy- 
book; and then OUy had his counting-slate and tried 
to find out what 6 and 4 made, and 5 and 3, and 
other little sums of the same kind. He yawned a 



k 



WET DAYS AT RAVEN8NEST, 117 

good deal over his reading, and was quite sure several 
times that h-a-y spelt " ham," and s-a-w spelt " was," 
but still, on the whole, he got through very weU. 
Milly wrote her copy, then she learnt some verses of 
a poem called "Lucy Gray," and last of all mother 
found her a big map of Westmoreland, the county in 
which the mountains are, and they had a most de- 
lightful geography lesson. Mother pretended to take 
Milly a drive all about the mountains, and made her 
find out their names, and the names of the towns and 
the lakes, beginning with Lake Windermere. Oily 
was interested too, for Mrs. Norton told them a great 
many things about the places, and made quite a 
story out of it. 

"Why, mother, I never could go all that long 
way all at once — really, could I ?" asked Milly, when 
they had been all round the mountains, in and out 
and round about. 

" No, Milly, not quite," said Mrs. Norton, laughing, 
" but it's very easy to go a long way in a pretendy 
drive. It would only take us about ten minutes that 
way to get to the other side of the world." 

" How long would it take really ?" asked Oily. 

" About three months." 

" If we could fly up, and up, ever so far," said OUy, 



118 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Standing on tiptoe and stretching out his Kttle arms 
as high as they would reach, " it wouldn't take us 
long. Mother, don't you wish you was a bird ?" 

" No, I don't think so, OUy ; why do you ?" 

" Because I should like to go so krich Mother, 
the fly-catchers do fly so krick; I can't see them 
sometimes when they're flying, they go so fast. Oh, 
I do wish father would let me get up a ladder to 
look at them." 

" No, Oily, you'U frighten them," said Milly, put- 
ting on her wise face. " Besides, father says you're 
too little, and you'd tumble down." 

OUy looked as if he didn't believe a word of it, as 
he generally did when Milly talked wisely to hini ; 
but just then he found that mother had put into 
his lap a whole basketftd of letters to tear up, and 
that interested him so much that he forgot the fly- 
catchers. Nurse cut out a most fashionable blue 
dress for Katie, and MiUy was quite happy all the 
rest of the morning in running up the seams and 
hemming the bottomu So the morning passed away. 
After dinner there were the toys to play with, and 
Katie's frock to try on, for nurse had taken a turn 
at the body while Milly had been making the skirt. 
It fitted very well, and Milly had only the band to 



WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST, 119 

put on and the sleeves to make before it would be 
quite finished. Then nurse promised to put a little 
white lace round the neck, and cut out a blue sash, 
that Katie might be quite turned into an elegant 
young lady. Tea came very soon, and when it was 
cleared away father and mother came into the big 
kitchen without a fireplace, next to the children's 
room, and they all had a splendid romp. Mr. Norton 
made himself into a tiger, with a tiger-skin in the 
haU, that Uncle Richard had brought home from 
India, and Oily shot him all over with a walking- 
stick from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. 
When they were tired of this, mother set them to 
play hide-and-seek, and Milly hid herself in such 
out-of-the-way cupboards, and squeezed herseK into 
such small corners, that mother said she was like a 
needle in a bundle of hay — ^there was no finding her. 

Seven o'clock came before they had time to think 
about it, and the children went chattering and skip- 
ping up to bed, though on fine evenings they had 
been staying up much later. How the rain did 
rattle on the window while they were undressing. 

" Oh you tiresome rain," said Milly, standing by 
the window in her nightdress, and gazing up into the 
sky. "Where does it all come from, I wonder? 



k 



120 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Won't it be wet to-morrow, Nana ? and oh, what is 
that roaring over there ?" 

" That's the beck," said nurse, who was brushing 
Guy's hair, and trying hard to make him stand still 
for two minutes. 

" The beck ! why, what's the matter with it ?" 

" It's the rain has made it so full I suppose," said 
nurse. " To-morrow, gardener says, it'll be over the 
lawn if the rain goes on." 

" Oh, but it mustn't go on," said Milly. " Now, 
rain, dear rain, good rain, do go away to-night, right 
away up into the mountains. There's plenty of room 
for you up there, and down here we don't want you 
a bit. So do be polite and go away." 

But the rain didn't see any good reason for going 
away, in spite of MiUy's pretty speeches, and next 
morning there was the same patter on the window, 
the same gray sky and dripping garden. After 
breakfast there was just a hope of its clearing up. 
For about an hour the rain seemed to get less and 
the clouds a little brighter. But it soon came on 
again as fast as ever, and the poor children were 
very much disappointed. 

" Mother," said Milly, when they had settled down 
to their lessons again in the drawing-room, " when we 
get back toWiUingham do you know what I shall do ? " 



WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST. 121 

"No,MiUy." 

" I shall ask you to take me to see that old gentle- 
man—you know who I mean — ^who told you about 
the rain. And I shall say to him, ' Please, Mr. Old 
Glentleman, at first I thought you were quite wrong 
about the rain, but afterwards I thought you were 
quite right, and it does rain dreadfully much in the 
mountains/" 

" Very well, MiUy. But you have only just had 
a taste of what the rain can do in the lakes you 
know, so far. Father and I have been here some- 
times when it has rained two or three weeks without 
stopping." 

"Oh dear!" said Milly, looking extremely melan- 
choly. " I like the mountains very much, mother ; 
but do you think we'd better come to Eavensnest 
again after this year?" 

"Oh you ungrateftd little woman!" said Mrs. 
Norton, whose love for the place was so real that 
Mill/s speech gave her quite a pang. " Have you 
forgotten all your happy sunshiny days here, just 
because it has rained for two ? Why, when I was a 
little girl, and used to come here, the rainy days 
never made me love the place a bit the less. I 
always used to think the fine days made up." 



1 



122 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"But then, mother, you were a nice little girl," 
said Miily, throwing her arms round her mother's 
neck and kissing her. " Now, I don't feel a bit nice 
this morning. It makes me so cross not to be able 
to go out and get flowers and wild strawberries. 
And you know at home it hardly ever rains aU day." 

"Gardener says sometimes it rains aU over the 
road," interrupted Oily, " and people can't walk along, 
and they have to go right up on the mountains to get 
past the water place. And sometimes they have to get 
a boat to take people across. Do you think we shall 
have to go in a boat to church on Sunday, mother ?" 

" WeU, we're a long way oflF that yet, OUy. It wiU 
take a good many days' rain to flood the roads so 
deep that we can't get along thejn, and this is only 
Uie second rainy day. Come, I don't think we've 
got much to comp}ain of. Now suppose, instead of 
doing all your lessons this morning, you were pre- 
sently to write to Jacky and Francis — ^you write to 
Jacky, Milly, and OUy to Francis. Don't you think 
that would be a good thing ?" 

" Oh j'os, yes !" cried Milly, shutting up her copy- 
l>i>ok in a groat hurry. " They'll be so much astonished, 
niotl\i\r» for we didn't promise to write to them. I 
don*t iHxliovi) they e\'«r get any letters." 



WET DAYS AT RAVENSNEST. 123 



The children had a great deal of affection and 
some secret pity for these playfellows of theirs, who 
had a sick mother, and who did not get half the 
pleasures and amusements that they did. And, as I 
have already told you, they could not bear Miss 
Chesterton, the little boys' aunt, who lived with them. 
They felt sure that Jacky and Francis must be 
unhappy, only because they had to Uve with Miss 
Chesterton. 

This was Milly's letter when it was done. Milly 
could only write very slowly, in rather big hand, so 
that her letters were never very long : — 

" My dear Jacky — Don't you think it very odd 
getting a letter from me ? It is nearly a fortnight 
since we came here. At first it was very nice. We 
went up the mountains and Aunt Emma took us in 
a boat on the lake. And we gathered some wild 
strawberries, only some of them were quite white — 
not red a bit. But now it has begun to rain, and we 
don't like it at all. Perhaps we shan't be able to get 
home because the rain will cover up the roads. It is 
very duU staying in, only mother makes us such nice 
plays. Good-bye, Jacky. I send my love to Francis. 
Mind you don't forget us. — ^Tour loving little friend, 

" Milly." 



124 MILLY AND OLLY. 

OUy wrote a much longer letter, that is to say, 
mother wrote for him, and he told her what to say, 
and as this was a much easier way of writing than 
Milly's way, he got on very fast, and Mrs. Norton 
had to write as quickly as she could, to keep up with 
him. And this was what OUy had to say : — 

" My dear Francis — I wonder what you'll say to- 
morrow morning when the postman brings you this 
letter. I hope you'll write back, because it won't be 
fair if you don't. It isn't such fun here now because 
it does rain so. Milly and I are always teUing the 
rain to go away, but it won't — though it did at home. 
Last week we went out in a boat, and I rowed. I 
rowed a great way — ^much farther than MUly. We 
went very slow when Milly rowed. It was very 
jolly at the picnic. Aunt Emma gave me some 
cake, and mother gave me some bread and jam. 
Nana won't let us have cake and jam both, when 
we have tea at home. Aunt Emma told us a story 
about King Arthur. I don't believe you ever heard 
it. The water-fairies took him away, and his friend 
wanted to go too, but the king said ' No ! you must 
stop behind.' Milly cried because she felt sad about 
the king. I didn't cry, because I'm a little boy. 
Mother says you won't understand about the story. 



WET DAYS AT BAVENSNEST. 125 

and she says we must tell it you when we get home. 
So we will, only perhaps we shan't remember. Do 
you do lessons now ? We don't do any — only when 
it rains. Milly's writing a letter to Jacky — mine's 
much longer than hers. — Your little friend, 

" Olly." 

Then came the putting up the letters, addressing 
them, and stamping them, aU of which the children 
enjoyed very much ; and by the time they were laid 
on the hall table ready to go to the post it was 
nearly dinner-time. 

How the beck did roar that afternoon ! And 
when the children looked out from the drawing-room 
window they could see a little flood on the lawn, 
where the water had come over the side of the stream. 
While they were having their tea, with mother 
sitting by, working and chattering to them, they 
heard a knock at the door, and when they opened it 
there was father standing in the unused kitchen, 
with the water running off his waterproof coat, 
making little streams all over the stone floor. 

" I have been down to look at the river," he said 
to Mrs. Norton. " Keep off, children ! I'm much 
too wet to touch. Such rain ! It does know how to 



126 MILLY AND OLLY. 

come down here ! The water's over the road just by 
the stepping-stones. John Backhouse says if it goes 
on another twenty-four hours like this, there'll be no 
getting to Wanwick by the road, on foot." 

" Father," said Milly, looking at him with a very 
solemn face, " wouldn't it be dreadful if it went on 
raining and raining, and if the river came up and up, 
right up the drive and into the hall, and we all had 
to sit upstairs, and the butcher couldn't bring us any 
meat, and John Backhouse couldn't bring us any 
milk, and we all died of hunger ? " 

" Then they would put us into some black boxes," 
said Oily, cheerfully, with his mouth full of bread- 
and-butter, "and they would put the black boxes 
into some boats, and take us right away and bury us 
krick — ^wouldn't they, mother ? " 

"Well, but " said Mr. Norton, who had by 

this time got rid of his wet coat, and was seated by 
Milly, helping himself to some tea, " suppose we got 
into the boats before we were dead, and rowed away 
to Windermere Station." 

" Oh no! father," said MiUy, who always liked her 
stories to be as gloomy as possible, " they wouldn't 
know anything about us till we were dead you know, 
and then they'd come and find us, and be very sorry 



WET DAYS AT BAVENSNEST. 127 

for us, and say, * Oh dear ! oh dear ! what a 
pity/ " 

Dlly began to look so dismal as Milly's fancies 
grew more and more melancholy, that Mrs. Norton 
took to laughing at them aU. What did they know 
about Westmoreland rain indeed ! This was nothing 
— just nothing at all; she could remember some 
floods in the winter time, when she was a little girl, 
and used to stay with Aunt Emma and great-grand- 
mamma ; but as for this — ^why it was a good summer 
wetting, and that was aU. 

A romp sent the children to bed in excellent 
spirits again. This time both MiUy and Oily stood 
at the window together, and told the rain to be sure 
to go to Spain that night, and never come back again 
while they were at Eavensnest. 

" Or you might go to Willingham, you know, dear 
Mr. Eain!" said Milly ; "I daresay mother's flowers 
want a good watering. And there's Spot — ^you might 
give her a good washing; she can wash herself, but 
she won't. Only we don't want you here, Mr. Eain." 

But what an obstinate disagreeable Mr. Eain it 
was ! All that night it went on pouring, till the 
little beck in the garden was so full it was almost 
choked, and could only get along by sputtering 



128 MILLY AND OLLY. 



and foaming as if some wicked water-fairies were 
driving it along and tormenting it. And all the 
little pools on the mountain, — the "tarns," as 
Becky and Tiza called them, filled up, and the raLn 
made the mountain itself so wet that it was like one 
big bog all over. 

When the children woke up the flood on the 
lawn was growing bigger, and it seemed to them as 
if the house and garden were all wrapped up in a wet 
white cloud-blanket. They could not see the moun- 
tain at all from the window, it 'was all covered with 
a thick white mist, and the dark fir trees in the 
garden looked sad and drooping, as if the weight of 
raindrops was too much for them to carry. 

The children had made up their minds so com- 
pletely the night before that it covldrCt rain more 
than two days running, that they felt as if they could 
hardly be expected to bear this third wet morning 
cheerfully. Nurse found them cross and out of 
J)irits at breakfast. Even a prospect of asking 
Becky and Tiza to tea did not bring any smiles to 
their forlorn little faces. It would be no fun having 
anybody to tea. They couldn't go out, and there 
wa3 nothing amusing indoors. 

After breakfast, OUy set to work to get into 



WET DAYS AT BAVENSNEST, 129 

mischief, as he generally did when he felt dull. 
Nurse discovered him smearing Katie's cheeks with 
raspberry jam " to make them get red kricker " as 
he said, and alas ! some of the jam had stuck to the 
new silk frock, and spoilt all its smart fresh look. 

When Milly found it out she began to cry, and 
when Mrs. Norton came in she saw a heap on the 
floor, which was Milly, sobbing, while Oily sat be- 
side her with his mouth wide open, as if he was a 
good deal astonished at the result of his first attempt 
at doctoring. 

'* Pick up the pieces, old woman," said Mrs. Norton, 
taking hold of the heap and lifting it up. " What's 
the matter with you both ? " 

" Olly^s spoilt my doll," sobbed Milly, " and it will 
go on raining — and I feel so — so — dull." 

"I didn't spoil her doll, mother," cried Oily, eagerly. 
" I only rubbed some jam on its cheeks to make them 
a nicey pink — only some of it would sticky her 
dress — I didn't mean to." 

" How would you like some jam rubbed on your 
cheeks, sir ? " said Mrs. Norton, who could scarcely 
help laughing at poor Katie's appearance when nurse 
handed the doll to her. " Suppose you leave Mill/s 
dolls alone for the future ; but cheer up, Milly ! I 

K 



i 



130 MILLY AND OLLY. 

think I can make Katie very nearly right again. 
Come upstairs to my room and well try." 

After a good deal of sponging and rubbing, and 
careful drying by the kitchen fire, Katie came very 
nearly right again, and then Mrs. Norton tried 
whether some lessons would drive the rain out of the 
children's heads. But the lessons did not go well. 
It was all Milly could do to help crying every time 
she got a figure wrong in her sum, and OUy took 
about ten minutes to read two lines of his reading- 
book. OUy had just begun his sums, and Milly was 
standing up to say some poetry to her mother, look- 
ing a woebegone little figure, with pale cheeks and 
heavy eyes, when suddenly there was a noise of 
wheels outside, and both the children turned to look 
out of the window. 

" A carriage ! a carriage ! " shouted Oily, jumping 
down, and running to the window. 

There, indeed, was one of the shut-up " cars," as 
the "Westmoreland people call them, coming up 
the llavensnest drive. 

" It's Aunt Emma," said Mrs. Norton, starting up, 
" how good of lier to come over on such a day. Eun, 
children, and open the front door." 

Down flew Milly and Oily, tumbling over one 



% 



TVET DAYS AT RA VENSNEST. 1 3 1 

another in their hurry ; but father had abeady thrown 
the door open, and who should they see step- 
ping down the carriage-steps but Aunt Emma herself, 
with her soft gray hair shining under her veil, and 
her dear kind face as gentle and cheery as ever. 

" Aunt Emma ! Aunt Emma !" shouted Oily, danc- 
ing up to her, and throwing his arms round her, " are 
you come to tell us about old Mother Quiverquake ?" 

" You gipsy, don't strangle me ! Well, Lucy dear, 
here I am. "Will you have me to dinner ? I thought 
we'd all be company for each other this bad day. 
Why, Milly, what have you been doing to your 
cheeks ? " 

" She's been crying," said Oily, in spite of MiUy's 
puUing him by the sleeve to make him be quiet, 
" because I stickened her doll." 

" Well, and quite right too. Dolls weren't made to 
be stickied. But now, who's going to carry my bag 
upstairs ? Take it gently, Milly, it's got my cap inside, 
and if you crumple my cap I shall have to sit with 
my head in a bandbox at dinner. Old ladies are 
never seen without their caps you know. The most 
dreadful things would happen if they were ! OUy, 
you may put my umbrella away. There now, I'U go 
to mother's room and take off my things." 



132 MILLY AND OLLY 



CHAPTER Vll. 

A STORY-TELLING GAME. 

When Aunt Emma was safely settled, cap and all, 
in one of the drawing-room arm-chairs, it seemed to 
the children as if the rain and the gray sky did not 
matter nearly so much as they had done half an hour 
before. In the first place, her coming made some- 
thing new and interesting to think about ; and in the 
second place, they felt quite sure that Aunt Emma 
hadn't brought her little black bag into the drawing- 
room with her for nothing. If only her cap had 
been in it, why of course she would have left it in 
mother's bedroom. But here it was in her lap, with 
her two hands folded tight over it, as if it contained 
something precious. How very puzzling and interest- 
ing! 

However, for a long time it seemed as if Aunt 
Emma had nothing at all to say about her bag. She 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 133 

began to tell them about her drive — ^how in two 
places the horse had to go splashing through the 
water, and how once, when they were crossing a little 
river that ran across the road, the water came so far 
up the wheels that " I put my head out of window," 
said Aunt Emma, " and said to my old coachman : 
* Now, John, if it's going to get any deeper than this, 
you'd better turn him round and go home, for I'm an 
old woman, not a fish, and I can't swim. Of course, 
if the horse can swim with the carriage behind hiTn 
it's all right, but I have my doubts/ Now John, my 
dears, has been with me a great many years, and he 
knows very well that I'm rather a nervous old woman. 
It's very sad, but it is so. Don't you be nervous 
when you're old people. So all he said was * All right, 
ma'am. Bless you, he can swim like a trout.' And 
crack went the whip, splash went the water! It 
seemed to me it was just going to come in under the 
door, when, \o and behold ! there we were safe and 
sound on dry ground again. But whether my old 
horse swam through or walked through I can't tell 
you. I like to believe he swam, because I'm so fond 
of him, and one likes to believe the creatures one 
loves can do clever things." 

" I'll ask John when he comes to take you away. 



134 MILLY AND OLLY, 

Aunt Emma," said Oily. " I don't believe horses can 
swim when they're in a carriage." 

"You're a matter-of-fact monkey," said Aunt 
Emma. " Dear me, what's that ? " 

For a loud squeak had suddenly startled the 
children, who were now looking about them every- 
where in vain, to find out where it came from. 
Squeak ! again. This time the voice certainly came 
from near Aunt Emma's chair, but there was nothing 
to be seen. 

" "What a strange house you live in," said Aunt 
Emma, with a perfectly grave face. " You must 
have caught a magician somehow. That's a magi- 
cian's squeak." 

Again came the noise ! 

" I know, I know ! " shouted Oily. " It's Aunt 
Emma's bag. I'm sure it came out of the bag." 

"My bag!" — holding it up and looking at it. 
" Now does that look like a bag that squeaks ? It's 
a perfectly well-behaved bag, and never did such a 
thing in its life." 

" I know. Aunt Emma," said Oily, dancing round 
her in great excitement. " You've got the parrot in 
there ! " 

" Well now," said Aunt Emma. " This is really 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 135 

serious. If you think I am such a cruel old 
woman as to shut up a poor poll-parrot in. a bag, 
there's no help for it, we must open the bag. But 
it's a very curious bag — I wouldn't stand too near it 
if I were you." 

Click! went the fastening of the bag, and out 
jumped — what do you think ? Why the very biggest 
frog that was ever seen, in this part of the world at 
any rate, a green speckled frog, that hopped on to Aunt 
Emma's knee, and then on to the floor, where it went 
hopping and squeaking along the carpet, till all of a 
sudden, when it got to the door, it turned over on its 
back, and lay there quite quiet with its legs in the 
air. 

The children followed it with looks half of horror 
half of amazement. 

" What is it, Aunt Emma ? Is it alive ? " asked 
Milly, jumping up on to a chair as the frog came near 
her, and drawing her little skirts. tight round her 
legs, while OUy went cautiously after it, with his 
hands on his knees, one step at a time. 

" You'd better ask it," said Aunt Emma, who had 
at last begun to laugh a little, as if it was impos- 
sible to keep grave any longer. " I'm sure it looks 
very peaceable just now, poor thing." 



136 MILLY AND OLLY. 



I 



So the children crept up to it, and examined it 
closely. Yes, it was a green speckled frog, but what 
it was made of, and whether it was alive, and if it 
was not alive how it managed to hop and squeak, — 
these were the puzzles. 

" Take hold of it, Milly," said Mr. Norton, who 
had just come up from his work, and was standing 
laughing near the door. " Turn it over on its legs 
again." 

" No, I'll turn it," cried Oily, making a dash, and 
turning it over in a great hurry, keeping his legs and 
feet well out of the way. Hop ! squeak ! there it 
was off again, right down the room with the children 
after it, tiU it came suddenly up against a table leg, 
and once more turned over on its back and lay quite 
stilL 

"Oh, Aunt Emma, is it a toy?" asked Milly, 
who now felt brave enough to take it up and look 
at it. 

"Well, MiUy, I believe so — a very lively one. 
Bring it here, and I'll teU you something about it." 

So the children brought it very cautiously, as if 
they were not quite sure what it would do next, and 
then Aunt Emma explained to them that she had 
once paid a visit to a shop in London where Japanese 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 137 

toys— toys made in the country of Japan— far away 
on the other side of the world, were sold, and that 
there she found master froggy. 

" And there never was such a toy as froggy for a 
wet day,'* said Aunt Emma. " I have tried him on 
all sorts of boys and girls, and he .never fails. He's 
as good a cure for a cross face as a poultice is for a 
sore finger. But, Milly — listen ! I declare there's 
something else going on in my bag. I really think, 
my dear bag, you might be quiet now that you have 
got rid of froggy ! What can aU this chattering be 
about ? Sh ! sh ! " and Aunt Emma held up her 
finger at the children, while she held the bag up to 
her ear and listened carefully. Oily was almost 
beside himself with excitement, but MiUy had got 
his little brown hands tight in hers for fear he should 
make a jump at the bag. *' Yes," said Aunt Emma. 
"It's just as I thought. The bag declares it's not 
his fault at all ; but that if I will give him such 
noisy creatures to carry I must take the conse- 
quences. He says there's a whole family now inside 
him, making such a noise he can hardly hear himself 
speak. It's enough, he says, to drive a respectable 
bag mad, and he must blow up if it goes on. Dear 
me ! I must look into this. Milly, come here ! " 



1 



138 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Milly came near, and Aunt Emma opened the bag 
solemnly. 

« Now, Milly, rU hold it for fear it should take it 
into its poor head to blow up, and you put your 
hand in and see what you can find." 

So Milly put her hand in, feeling a good deal ex- 
cited as to what might happen — and what do you 
think she brought out? A whole handful of the 
most delicious dolls — cardboard dolls of all sorts 
and kinds, like those in mother's drawer at home ; 
paper dolls, mamma dolls, little boy doUs and little 
girl dolls, baby dolls and nurse dolls ;. dolls in suits 
and dolls in frocks ; dolls in hats and doUs in night- 
gowns ; a papa in trousers and a mamma in a magni- 
ficent blue dress with flounces and a train ; a nurse in 
white cap and apron and the most bewitching baby 
doll you ever saw, with a frilled paper cap that slipped 
on and off, and a white frock with pink ribbons. And 
the best of these dolls was, that each of them had a 
piece of cardboard fastened on behind and a little bit 
of cardboard to stand on, so that when you spread 
out the piece behind they stood up as naturally. as 
possible, and looked as if they were going to talk 
to you. 

" Oh, Aunt Emma ! dear Aunt Emma ! " cried 



I 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 139 

Milly, beside herself with delight, as she spread them 
all out in her lap. " They're just like mother's at 
home, mother's that you made for her when she was 
a little girl — only ever so many more." 

" Well, Milly, I made mother's for her long ago, 
when it rained for days and days without stopping, 
and she had grown tired of pretty nearly everything 
and everybody indoors ; and now I have been spend- 
ing part of these rainy days in making a new set for 
mother's little girl. There, dear little woman, I 
think you must have given me a kiss for each of 
them by this time. Suppose you try and make them 
stand up." 

" But, Aunt Emma," said OUy, who was busy 
examining the mysterious bag — "how could the 
dolls talk ? they're only paper." 

" I know nothing about it," answered Aunt Emma, 
rescuing the bag, and putting it safely under her 
chair. "You might ask the bag — ^but it wouldn't 
answer you. Magical bags never do talk except to 
their masters or mistresses." 

So OUy had to puzzle it out for himself while he 
played with the Japanese frog. That was an extra- 
ordinary frog ! You should have seen nurse's start 
when Oily hid himself in the passage and sent the 



\ 



1 40 MILL Y AND OLL Y. 

frog hopping and squeaking through the open door 
of the night nursery, where nurse was sitting sewing ; 
and as for cook, when the creature came flopping 
over her kitchen-floor she very nearly spoilt the hash 
she was making for dinner by dropping a whole 
pepper-box into the middle of it! There was no 
end to the fun to be got out of froggy, and Oily 
amused himself with it the whole of the morning, 
while Milly went through long stories with her dolls 
upstairs, helped every now and then by Aunt Emma, 
who sat knitting and talking to mother. 

At dinner the children had to sit quiet while Mr. 
and Mrs. Norton and Aunt Emma talked. Father and 
mother had been almost as much cheered up by Aunt 
Emma's coming as the children themselves, and now 
the dinner-table was lively with pleasant talk ; talk 
about books, and talk about pictures, and talk about 
foreign places, and talk about the mountains and the 
people living near Eavensnest, many of whom mother 
had known when she was a little girl. Milly, who 
was old enough to listen, could only understand a 
little bit here and there ; but there was always Aunt 
Emma's friendly gentle face to look at, and her soft old 
hand in its black mitten, to slip her own little fingers 
into ; while OUy was so taken up with the prospects 



A STOBY'TELLINQ GAME. ^ 141 

of the black currant pudding which he had seen 
cook making in the morning, and the delight of it 
when it came, that it seemed no trouble to him to sit 

stm. 

As for the rain, there was not much difference. 
Perhaps there were a few breaks in the clouds, and 
it might be beating a little less heavily on the glass 
conservatory outside the dining-room — still, on the 
whole, the weather was much the same as it had 
been. It was wonderful to see how little notice the 
children had taken of it since Aunt Emma came, and 
when they escorted her upstairs after dinner, they 
quite forgot to rush to the window and look out, as 
they had been doing the last three days at every 
possible opportunity. 

The children got her safe into a chair, and then 
Oily brought a stool to one side of her, and Milly 
brought a stool to the other. 

"Now, can you remember about old Mother 
Quiverquake ? " said Oily, resting his little sunburnt 
chin on Aunt Emma's knee, and looking up to her 
with eager eyes. 

" Well, I daresay I shall begin to remember about 
her presently; but suppose, children, we have a 
story-telling game/ "We'll aU tell stories — you 
and OUy, father, mother, and everybody • Tcfi&i^ 



i 



142 MILLY AND OLLY. 

much fairer than that one person should do all the 
teUmg." 

"We couldn't," said Milly, shaking her head 
gravely, " we are only little children. Little children 
can't make up stories." 

"Suppose little children try," said mother. "I 
think Aunt Emma's is an excellent plan. Now, 
father, you'll have to tell one too." 

"Father's lazy," said Mr. Norton, coming out 
from behind his newspaper. " But, perhaps, if you all 
of you tell very exciting stories you may stir him 
up. 

" Oh, father ! " cried Oily, who had a vivid remem- 
brance of his father's stories, though they only came 
very seldom, " tell us about the rat with three tails, 
and the dog that walked on its nose." 

" Oh dear, no ! " said Mr. Norton, " those won't do 
for such a grand story-telling as this. I must think 
of some story which is all long words and good chil- 
dren." 

" Don% father," said Milly, imploringly, " it's ever 
so much nicer when they get into scrapes, you know, 
and tumble down, and all that." 

" Who's to begin ? " said Aunt Emma. " I think 
mother had better begin. Afterwards it will be 




A STORY-TELLING GAME. 143 

your turn, Oily; then father, then Milly, and then 
me. 

" I don't believe IVe got a scrap of a story in my 
head," said Mrs. Norton. " It's weeks since I caught 
one last." 

" Then look here, Oily," said Aunt Emma, " I'U 
tell you what to do. Go up gently behind mother, and 
kiss her three times on the top of the head. That's 
the way to send the stories in. Mother will soon 
begin to feel one fidgeting inside her head after that." 

So Oily went gently up behind his mother, climbed 
on a stool at the back of her chair, and kissed her 
softly three times at the back of her head. Mrs. 
Norton lay still for a few moments after the kisses, 
with closed eyes. 

"Ah!" she said at last. "Now I think IVe 
caught one. But it's a very little one, poor little 
thing. And yet, strange to say, though it's very little 
it's very old. Now, children, you must be kind to my 
story. I caught him first a great many years ago in 
an old book, but I am afraid you will hardly care for 
him as much as I did. Well, once upon a time there 
was a great king." 

" Was it King Arthur, mother ? " interrupted OUy, 
eagerly. 



i 



144 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"Oh no! this king lived in a dififerent country- 
altogether. He lived in a beautiful hot country over 
the sea, called Spain." 

"Oh, mother! a Tiot country!" protested Milly, 
" that's where the rain goes to." 

" Well, Milly, I don't think you know any more 
about it, except that you tell the rain to go there. 
Don't you know by this time that the rain never 
does what it's told ? Eeally, very little rain goes to 
Spain, and in some parts of the country the people 
would be very glad indeed if we could send them 
some of the rain we don't want at Eavensnest. But 
now, you mustn't interrupt me, or I shall forget my 
story — ^Well, there was once a king who lived in a 
very hot part of Spain, where they don't have much 
rain, and where it hardly ever snows or freezes. 
And this king had a beautiful wife, whom he loved 
very much. But, unluckily, this beautiful wife had 
ono groat fault. She was always wishing for the 
most unreasonable and impossible things, and though 
tho king was always trying to get her what she 
>\-antoil sho was never satisfied, and every day she 
soouKHi t<» grow more and more discontented and ex- 
Hot iii^. At Wt, one day in the winter, a most ex- 
triumliuary thing hapin^ned. A shower of snow fell 



^ 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 145 

in Cordova, which was the name of the town where 
the king and queen lived, and it whitened the hills 
all round the town, so that they looked as if somebody 
had been dusting white sugar over them. Now snow 
was hardly ever seen in Cordova, and the people in 
the town wondered at it, and talked about it a great 
deal. But after she had looked at it a little while 
the queen began to cry bitterly. None of her ladies 
could comfort her, nor would she tell any of them 
what was the matter. There she sat at her window, 
weeping, till the king came to see her. When he 
came he could not imagine what she was crying 
about, and begged her to tell him why. * I am weep- 
ing/ she said, sobbing all the time, 'because the 
hills — are not always — covered with snow. See how 
pretty they look ! And yet — I have never, till now, 
seen them look like that. If you really loved me, 
you would manage some way or other that it should 
snow once a year at any rate.' 

" ' But how can I make it snow ? ' cried the king 
in great trouble, because she would go on weeping 
and weeping, and spoiling her pretty eyes. 

" ' I'm sure I don't know,' said the queen, crossly, 
'but you can't love me a bit, or you'd certainly 
try.' 

L 



146 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" Well, the king thought and thought, and at last he 
hit upon a beautiful plan. He sent into all parts of 
Spain to buy almond trees, and planted them on the 
hills all round the town. Now the almond tree, as you 
know, has a lovely pinky- white blossom, so when the 
next spring arrived all these thousands of almond 
trees came out into bloom all over the hills round Cor- 
dova, so that they looked at a distance as if they were 
covered with white snow. And for once the queen 
was delighted, and could not help saying a nice 
' Thank-you,' to the king for all the trouble he had 
taken to please her. But it was not very long before 
she grew discontented again, and began once more to 
wish for all kinds of ridiculous things. One day she 
was sitting at her window, and she saw some ragged 
little children playing by the river that ran round 
the palace. They were dabbling in the mud at the 
side, sticking their little bare feet into it, or scooping 
up pieces which they rolled into balls and threw 
at one another. The queen watched them for 
some time, and at last she began to weep bitterly. 
One of her maidens ran and told the king that the 
queen was weeping, and he came in a great hurry to 
se.e what was the matter. 

" ' Just look at those children down there ! ' said 



A STOBY-TELLINQ GAME. 147 

the queen, sobbing and pointing to them. ' Did you 
ever see anybody so happy ? Why can't I have mud 
to dabble in too, and why can't / take off my shoes 
and stockings and amuse myself like the children do, 
instead of being so dull and stuck-up all day long V 

" ' Because it isn't proper for queens to dabble in 
the mud/ said the poor king in great perplexity, for 
he didn't at all like the idea of his beautiful queen 
dabbling in the mud with the little ragged children. 

" * That's just like you,' said the queen, beginning 
to cry faster than ever, *you never do anything to 
please me. What's the good of being proper? 
What's the good of being a queen at all ? ' 

" This made the king very unhappy, and again he 
thought and thought, till at last he hit upon a plan. 
He ordered a very large shallow bath of white marble 
to be made in the palace-garden. Then he poured 
into it all kinds of precious stones, and chips of 
sweet -smelling wood, besides a thousand cartloads 
of rose leaves and a thousand cartloads of orange 
flowers. All these he ordered to be stirred up 
together with a great ivory spoon, till they made a 
kind of wonderful mud, and then he had the bath 
filled up with scented water. 

" ' Now then,' he said to the queen, when he had 



148 MILLY AND OLLY. 

brought her down to look at it, ' you may take ofif 
your shoes and stockings and paddle about in this 
mud as much as you like/ You may imagine that 
this was a very pleasant kind of mud to dabble in, 
and the queen and her ladies amused themselves with 
it immensely for some time. But nothing could keep 
this tiresome queen amused for long together, and in 
about a fortnight she had grown quite tired of her 
wonderful bath. It seemed as if the king's pains 
had been all thrown away. She grew cross and dis- 
contented again, and her ladies began to say to each 
other * What will she wish for next I wonder? The 
king might as well try to drink up the sea as try to 
get her all she wants.' At last, one day, when she 
and her ladies were walking near the palace, they 
met a shepherdess driving a flock of sheep up into 
the hills. The shepherdess looked so pretty and 
bright in her red petticoat and tall yellow cap, that 
the queen stopped to speak to her. 

"'Where are you going, pretty maiden, with your 
woolly white sheep ? ' she asked. 

" 'I am going up to the hills,' said the shepherdess. 
' Now the sun has scorched up the fields down below 
we must take our sheep up to the cool hills, where 
the grass is stiQ fresh and green. Good -day, 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 149 

good -day, the sheep are going so fast I cannot 
wait.' 

"So on she tripped, singing and calling to her 
sheep, who came every now and then to rub their 
soft coats against her, as if they loved her. The queen 
looked after her, and her face began to pucker up. 

"*Why am I not a shepherdess?' she exclaimed, 
bursting into tears. * I hate being a queen I I never 
sang as merrily as that little maiden in all my life. 
I must and will be a shepherdess, and drive sheep up 
into the mountains, or I shall die ! ' 

"And aU that night the foolish* queen sat at her 
window crying, and when the morning came she had 
made herself look quite old and ugly. When the 
king came to see her he was dreadfully troubled, and 
begged her to tell him what was the matter now. 

" *I want to be a shepherdess, and drive sheep up 
into the mountains,' sobbed the queen. ' Why should 
the little shepherdess girls look always so happy 
and merry, while I am dying of dulness ? ' 

" The king thought it was very unkind of her to 
say she was dying of dulness when he had taken so 
much trouble to get her all she wanted.; but he knew 
it was no good talking to her while she was in such 
a temper. So aU he said was : — 



150 MILLY AND OLLY 

" ' How can I turn you into a shepherdess ? These 
shepherdesses stay out all night with their sheep on 
the hills, and live on water and a crust of bread. 
How would you like that ? ' 

"*0f course I should like it!' said the queen; 
' anything for a change ! Besides, nothing could be 
nicer than staying out of doors these lovely nights. 
And as for food, you know very well that I am never 
hungry here, and that it doesn't matter in the least 
to me what I eat ! ' 

" ' Well,' said the king, * you shall go up to the 
hiUs, if you promise to take your ladies with you, 
and if you will let me send a tent to shelter you at 
night, and some servants to look after yoiu' 

" * As if that would give me any pleasure !' said 
the queen ; * to be followed about and waited upon is 
just what I detest. I will go alone, just like that 
pretty little shepherdess, if I go at alL' 

" But the king declared that nothing would induce 
him to let her go alone. So the queen set to work 
to cry, and she cried for two days and two nights 
without stopping ; and at the end of that time, the 
poor king was ready to let her go anywhere or do 
anything for the sake of a little peace. 

"So she had her own way. They found her a 




'They found het a flock of the loveliest while sheep.' — Page 151. 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 151 

flock of the loveliest white sheep, all with blue 
ribbons round their necks, and blue rosettes on their 
little white tails ; and the queen dressed herself up 
in a red silk petticoat and a cap embroidered in gold 
and silver, and then she set out by herself. 

" At first it was all delightful. She drove the sheep 
up the soft green hill -sides, and laughed with 
delight to see them nibbling the fresh grass, and 
running hither and thither after her, and after each 
other. The evening sun shone brightly, and she sat 
herseK down on a rock and sang all the tunes she 
knew, that she might be just like the little shep- 
herdess. But while she was singing the sheep 
strayed away, and she had to run after them as fast 
as she could, to catch them up. This made her hot 
and tired ; so she tried to make them lie down under 
a chestnut tree, that she might rest beside them. 
But the sheep were not a bit tired, and had no mind 
to rest at alL While she was calling one set of 
them together the other set ran scampering off, and 
the queen found out that she must just give up her 
way for once and follow theirs. On went the sheep, 
up hill and down dale, nibbling and frisking and 
trotting to their heart's content, till the queen was 
worn oufc» 



152 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" At last, by the time the sun was setting, the poor 
queen was so tired that she could walk no longer. 
Down she sat, and the ungrateful sheep kicked up 
their little hind legs and trotted away out of sight as 
fast as they could trot. There she was left on the 
hill-side all alone. It began to get dark; and the 
sky, instead of being blue and clear as it had been, 
filled with black clouds. 

"' Oh dear! oh dear!' sighed the queen, *here is 
a storm coming. If I could only find my way down . 
the hill ! if I could only see the town ! ' 

" But there were trees all about her, which hid the 
view, and soon it was so dark there was nothing to 
be seen — not even the stars. And presently, crash 
came the thunder, and after the thunder the rain — 
such rain ! It soaked the queen's golden cap till it 
was so heavy with water she was obliged to throw it 
away, and her silk petticoat was as wet as if she had 
been taking a bath in it. In vain she ran hither 
and thither, trying to find a way through the trees, 
while the rain blinded her, and the thunder deafened 
her ; till at last she was forced to sink down on the 
ground, feeling more wretched and frightened and 
cold than any queen ever felt before. Oh ! if she were 
only safe back in her beautiful palace ! If only she 



A STORY-TELLING GAME, 153 

had the tent the king wanted to send with her! 
But there all night she had to stay ; and all night the 
storm went on, till the queen was lying in a flood, 
and the owls and bats, startled out of their holes, 
went flying past her in the dark, and frightening her 
out of her senses. When the morning came there 
was such a shivering, crumpled-up queen sitting on 
the grass, that even her own ladies would scarcely 
have known her. 

" * Oh, husband ! husband ! ' she cried, getting up 
and wringing her cold little hands. * You will never 
find me, and your poor wicked wife will die of cold 
and hunger.' 

" Tirra— lirra ! tirra — lirra ! What was that sound- 
ing in the forest ? Surely — surely — it was a hunting- 
horn. But who could be blowing it so early in the 
cold gray morning, when it was scarcely light? On 
ran the queen towards where the sound came from. 
Over rocks and grass she ran, till, all of a sudden, 
stepping out from behind a tree, came the king him- 
self, who had been looking for her for hours. And 
then what do you think the discontented queen did ? 
She folded her hands, and hung her head, and said, 
quite sadly and simply, — 

" 'Oh, my lord king, make me a shepherdess really. 



t 



% 



154 MILLY AND OLLY. 

I don't deserve to be a queen. Send me away, and 
let me knit and spin for my living. I have plagued 
you long enough.' 

" And suddenly it seemed to the king as if there 
had been a black speck in the queen's heart, which 
had been all washed away by the rain; and he took 
her hands, and led her home to the palace in joy and 
gladness. And so they lived happy ever afterwards." 

"Thank you very much, mother," said Milly, 
stretching up her arms and drawing down Mrs. 
Norton's face to kiss her. " Do you really think the 
queen was never discontented any more ? " 

" I can't tell you any more than the story does," 
said Mrs. Norton. " You see there would always be 
that dreadful night to think about, if she ever felt 
inclined to be ; but I dare say the queen didn't find 
it very easy at first." 

" I would have made her be a shepherdess," said 
Oily, shaking his head gravely. "She wasn't nice, 
not a bit." 

" Little Mr. Severity ! " said Aunt Emma, pulling 
his brown curls. " It's your turn next. Oily." 

" Then Milly must kiss me first," said Oily, look- 
ing rather scared, as if something he didn't quite 
understand was going to happen to him. 



A STORY-TELLING GAME, 155 

So Milly went through the operation of kissing 
him three times on the back of the head, and then 
OUy's eyes, finding it did no good to stare at Aunt 
Emma or mother, went wandering all round the 
room in search of something else to help him. Sud- 
denly they came to the window, where a brown speck 
was dancing up and down; and then Olly's face 
brightened, and he began in a great hurry : — 

"Once upon a time there was a daddy-long- 
legs " 

"Well!" said Milly, when they had waited a 
little while, and nothing more came. 

" I don't know any more," said Oily. 

" Oh, that is siUy," said MiUy ; " why, that isn't 
a story at alL Shut your eyes tight — that's much 
the best way of making a story." 

So Oily shut his eyes, and pressed his two hands 
tightly over them, and then he began again : — 

"Once upon a time there was a daddy-long- 
legs " 

Another stop. 

" Was it a good daddy-long-legs ? " asked Milly, 
anxious to help him on. 

" Yes," said Oily, " that's it, Milly. Once upon a 
time there was a good daddy-long-legs " 



\ 



156 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"Well, what did he do?" asked Milly, im- 
patiently. 

"He — he — flewed on to father's nose!" said 
OUy, keeping his hands tight over his eyes, while his 
little white teeth appeared below in a broad grin. 

" And father said, * Who's that on my nose ? * and 
the daddy-long-legs said, ' It's me, don't you know ? ' 
And father said, * Get away off my nose, I don't like 
you a bit.' And the daddy-long-legs said, ' I shan't 
go away. It's hot on the window; the sun gets in 
my eyes. I like sitting up here best.' So father 
took a big sofa-cushion and gave his nose ever such 
a bang! And the daddy-long-legs tumbled down 
dead. And the cushion tumbled down dead. And 
father tumbled down dead. And that's all," said 
OUy, opening his eyes, and looking extremely proud 
of himself. 

" Oh, you silly boy ! " cried Milly, " that isn't a 
bit like a real story." 

But Aunt Emma and father and mother laughed a 
good deal at Guy's story, and Aunt Emma said it 
would do very weU for such a smaU boy. 

Whose turn was it next ? 

" Father's turn ! father's turn ! " cried the chUdren, 
in great glee, looking round for him ; but whUe OUy^s 



A STORY-TELLING GAME. 157 

story had been going on, Mr. Norton, who was sitting 
behind them in a big arm-chair, had been covering 
himself up with sofa cushions and newspapers, till 
there was only the tip of one of his boots to be seen 
coming out from under the heap. The children were 
a long time dragging him out, for he pelted them 
with cushions, and crumpled the newspapers over 
their heads, till they were so tired with laughing and 
struggling they had no strength left. 

" Father, it isn't fair, I don't think," said MiUy at 
last, sitting a breathless heap on the floor. "Of 
course little people can't make big people do things, 
so the big people ought to do them without making." 

" That's not at aU good reasoning, Milly," said Mr. 
Norton, who could not resist the temptation of 
throwing one more sofa cushion at her laughing face. 
"You can't make nurse stand on her head, but 
that's no reason why nurse should stand on her 
head." 

Just then Oily, moving up a stool behind his 
father's chair, brought his little mouth suddenly down 
on his father's head, and gave him three kisses in a 
great hurry, with a shout of triumph at the end 

" Dear me ! " said Mr. Norton, shutting his eyes 
and falling back as if something had happened to 



t 



158 MILLY AND OLLY. 

him. " This is very serious. Aunt Emma, that spell 
of yours is really too strong. My poor head ! It 
will certainly burst if I don't get this story out 
directly ! Come, jump up, children — quick ! " 

Up jumped the children, one on each knee, and 
Mr. Norton began at once : — 



i 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 159 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 

" Once upon a time there was a great " 

"Father," interrupted MiUy, "I shall soon be 
getting tired of * Once upon a time there was a great 
king/" 

" Don't cry till you're hurt, Milly ; which means, 
wait till I get to the end of my sentence. Well, once 
upon a time there was a great — ^hero." 

" What is a hero ?" asked Oily. 

" I know," said MiUy, eagerly ; " it's a brave man 
that's always fighting, and killing giants and dragons 
and cruel people." 

"That'll do to begin with," said Mr. Norton; 
" though, when you grow older, you will find that 
people can be heroes without fighting or killing. 
However, the man I am going to tell you about was 
just the kind of hero you're thinking of, MiUy. He 
loved fighting with giants and dragons and wild 



% 



1 



160 MILLY AND OLLY. 

people, and my story is going to be about two of his 
fights — the greatest he ever fought. The name of 
this hero was Beowulf, and he lived in a country 
called Sweden (Milly knows all about Sweden, Oily, 
you must get her to show it you on the map), with a 
number of other brave men who were his friends, and 
helped him in his battles. And one day a messenger 
came over the sea from another country close by, 
called Denmark, and the messenger said, * Which of 
all you brave men will come over and help my master. 
King Hrothgar, who is in sore trouble?' And the 
messenger told them how Hrothgar, for many years 
past, had been plagued by a monster — the hateful 
monster Grendel, half a man and half a beast, who 
lived at the bottom of a great bog near the king's 
palace. Every night, he said, Grendel the monster 
came out of the bog with his horrible mother beside 
him — a wolf-like creature, fearful to look upon — and 
he and she would roam about the country, killing and 
slaying aU. whom they met. Sometimes they would 
come stalking to the king's palace, where his brave 
men were sleeping round the fire in the big hall, and 
before anyone could withstand him Grendel would 
fall upon the king's warriors, kill them by tens and 
twenties, and carry off their dead bodies to his bog. 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 161 

Many a brave man had tried to slay the monster, but 
none had been able so much as to wound him. 

" When Beowulf and his friends had heard this 
story they thought a while, and then each said to the 
other, ' Let us go across the sea and rid King Hrothgar 
of this monster/ So they took ship and went across 
the sea to Hrothgar's country, and Hrothgar wel- 
comed them royally, and made a great feast in their 
honour. And after the feast Hrothgar said to Beo- 
wulf, ' Now, I give over to you the hall of my palace, 
that you may guard it against the monster.' So 
Beowulf and the brave men who had come over with 
him made a great fire in the hall, and they all lay 
down to sleep beside it. You may imagine that they 
did not find it very easy to get to sleep, and some of 
them thought as they lay there that very likely they 
should never see their homes in Sweden again. But 
they were tired with journeying and feasting, and one 
after another they all fell asleep. Then iu the dead 
of the night, when all was still, Grendel rose up out 
of the bog and came stalking over the moor to the 
palace. His eyes flamed with a kind of horrible light 
in the darkness, and his steps seemed to shake the 
earth ; but those inside the palace were sleeping so 
heavily that they heard nothing, not even when 

M 



162 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Grendel burst open the door of the hall and came in 
among them. Before any one had wakened, the mon- 
ster had seized one of the sleeping men and torn him 
to pieces. Then he came to BeowuK ; but Beowulf 
sprang up out of his sleep and laid hold upon him 
boldly. He used no sword to strike him, for there 
was no sword which men could make was strong 
enough to hurt Grendel ; but he seized him with his 
strong hands, and the two struggled together in the 
palace. And they fought till the benches were torn 
from the walls, and everything in the hall was smashed 
and broken. The brave men, springing up all round, 
seized their swords and would gladly have helped 
their lord, but there was no one but Beowulf could 
harm Grendel. 

" So they fought, till at last Beowulf tore away 
Grendel's hand and arm, and the monster fled away 
howling into the darkness. Over the moor he rushed 
till he came to his bog, and there he sank down into 
the middle of the bog, wailing and shrieking like one 
whose last hour was come. Then there was great 
rejoicing at Heorot, the palace ; and TTing Hrothgar, 
when he saw Grendel's hand which BeowuK had torn 
away, embraced him and blessed him, and he and aU 
his friends were laden with splendid gifts. 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 163 

" But all was not over yet. When the next night 
came, and Hrothgar's men and Beowulf s men were 
asleep together in the great hall, Grendel's horrible 
mother, half a woman and half a wolf, came rushing 
to the palace; and while they were all asleep she 
carried off one of Hrothgar's dearest friends— a young 
noble whom he loved best of all his nobles. And she 
killed him, and carried his body back to the bog. 
Then the next morning there was grief and weeping 
in Heorot ; but Beowulf said to the king, * Grieve not, 
king ! till we have found out GrendeFs mother and 
punished her for her evH deeds. I promise you she 
shall give an account for this. She shall not be able 
to hide herseK in the water, nor under the earth, nor 
in the forest, nor at the bottom of the sea ; let her go 
where she wiU, I will find a way after her.' 

" So Beowulf and his friends put on their armour 
and mounted their horses, and set out to look for her. 
And when they had ridden a long and weary way 
over steep lonely paths and past caves where dragons 
and serpents lived, they came at last to Grendel's bog 
— a fearful place indeed. There in the middle of it 
lay a pool of black water, and over the water hung 
withered trees, which seemed as if they had been 
poisoned by the air rising from the water beneath 



164 MILLY AND OLLY. 

them. No bird or beast would ever come near Gren- 
del's pool. If the hounds were hunting a stag, and 
they drove him down to the edge, he would sooner 
let them tear him to pieces than hide himself in the 
water. And every night the black water seemed to 
burn and flame, and it hissed and bubbled and groaned 
as if there were evil creatures tossing underneath. 
And now when Beowulf and his men came near it, 
they saw fierce water-dragons lying near the edge or 
swimming about the pool. There also, beside the 
water, they found the .dead body of Hrothgar's friend, 
who had been killed by Grendel's mother, arid they 
took it up and mourned over him afresh. 

" But BeowuK took an old and splendid sword that 
Hrothgar had given him, and he put on his golden 
helmet and his iron war-shirt that no sword could 
cut through, and when he had bade his friends fare- 
well he leapt straight into the middle of the bog. 
Down he sank, deeper and deeper into the water, 
among strange water beasts that struck at him with 
their tusks as he passed them, till at last Grendel's 
mother, the water-wolf, looked up from the bottom 
and saw him coming. Then she sprang upon him, 
and seized him, and dragged him down ; and he found 
himseK in a sort of hall under the water, with a pale 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 165 

strange light in it. And then he turned from the 
horrible water- wolf and raised his sword and struck 
her on the head ; but his blow did her no harm. No 
sword made by mortal men could harm Grendel or 
his mother ; and as he struck her Beowulf stumbled 
and fell. Then the water-wolf mshed forward and 
sat upon him as he lay there, and raised aloft her own 
sharp dagger to drive it into his breast ; but Beowulf 
shook her off, and sprang up, and there, on the wall, 
he saw hanging a strange old sword that had been 
made in the old times, long, long ago, when the world 
was full of giants. So he threw his own sword aside 
and took down the old sword, and once more he smote 
the water- woK. And this time his sword did him 
good service, and Grendel's fierce mother sank down 
dead upon the ground. 

" Then Beowulf looked round him, and he saw 
lying in a corner the body of Grendel himself. He 
cut off the monster's head, and lo and behold ! when 
he had cut it off the blade of the old sword melted 
away, and there was nothing left in his hands but 
the hilt, with strange letters on it, telling how it was 
made in old days by the giants for a great king. So 
with that, and Hrothgar's sword and Grendel's head, 
Beowulf rose up again through the bog, and just as 



166 MILLY AND OLLY. 

his brave men had begun to think they should never 
see their dear lord more he came swimming to land, 
bearing the great head with him. 

" Then Hrothgar and all his people rejoiced greatly, 
for they knew that the land would never more be 
troubled by these hateful monsters, but that the 
ploughers might plough, and the shepherds might 
lead their sheep, and brave men might sleep at night, 
without fear any more of Grendel and his mother." 

"Oh, father!" said Milly, breathlessly, when he 
stopped. "Is that aU?" 

But OUy sat quite still, without speaking, gazing 
at his father with wide-open brown eyes, and a face 
as grave and terrified as if Grendel were actually 
beside him. 

" That's all for this time," said Mr. Norton. " Why, 
Oily, where are your little wits gone to? Did it 
frighten you, old man ?" 

"Oh !" said OUy, drawing a long breath. " I did 
think he would never have comed up out of that 
bog !" 

"It was splendid," said Milly. "But, father, I 
don't understand about that pooL Why didn't Beo- 
wuK get drowned when he went down under the 
water?" 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 167 

" The story doesn't tell us anything about that," 
said Mr. Norton. " But heroes in those days, Milly, 
must have had something magical about them, so 
that they were able to do things that men and 
women can't do now. Do you know, children, that 
this story that you have been listening to is more 
than a thousand years old ? Can you fancy that ?" 

" No," said Milly, shaking her head. " I can't fancy 
it a bit, father. It's too long. It makes me puzzled 
to think of so many years. 

"Years and years and years and years!'' said 
Oily. When father's grandfather was a little boy." 

Mr. Norton laughed. "Can't you think of any- 
thing farther back than that. Oily ? It would take 
a great many grandfathers, and grandfathers' grand- 
fathers, to get back to the time when the story of 
Beowulf was made. And here am I teHing it to you 
just in the same way as fathers used to tell it to their 
children a thousand years ago." 

" I suppose the children liked it so, they wouldn't 
let their fathers forget it," said Milly. " And then 
when they grew up they told it to their children. 
I shall tell it to my children when I grow up. I 
think I shall tell it to Katie to-morrow." 

" Father," said Oily, " did Beowulf die— ever ?" 



168 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"Yes. When he was quite an old man he had 
another great fight with a dragon, who was guarding 
a cave full of golden treasure on the sea-shore ; and 
though he killed the dragon, the dragon gave him a 
terrible wound, so that when his friends came to look 
for him they found him lying all but dead in the 
cave. He was just able to tell them to make a great 
mound of earth over him when he was dead, on a 
high rock close by, that sailors might see it from 
their ships and think of him when they saw it, and 
then he died. And when he was dead they carried 
him up to the rock, and there they burned his body, 
and then they built up a great high mound of earth, 
and they put Beowulf s bones inside, and all the 
treasure from the dragon's cave. They were ten 
days buUding up the mound. Then when it was 
all done they rode round it weeping and chanting 
sorrowful songs, and at last they left him there, say- 
ing as they went away that never should they see so 
good a king or so true a master any more. And for 
hundreds of years afterwards, when the sailors out at 
sea saw the high mound rising on its point of rock, 
they said one to another, * There is Beowulf s Mount,' 
and they began to tell each other of Beowulf s brave 
deeds — how he lived and how he died, and how 




THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 169 

he fought with Grendel and the wild sea -dragons. 
There, now, I have told you all I know about 
BeowuK," said Mr. Norton, getting up and turning 
the children off his knee, " and if it isn't somebody- 
else's turn now it ought to be." 

"Aunt Emma ! Aunt Emma !" shouted Oily, who 
was so greedy for stories that he coxild almost listen 
all day long without being tired. 

But Aunt Emma only smiled through her spec- 
tacles and pointed to the window. The children ran 
to look out, and they could hardly believe their eyes 
when they saw that it had actually stopped raining, 
and that over the tree-tops was a narrow strip of blue 
sky, the first they had seen for three whole days. 

" Oh you nice blue sky !" exclaimed Milly, dancing 
up and down before the window with a beaming face. 
" Mind you stay there and get bigger. We'll get on 
our hats presently and come out to look at you. Oh ! 
there's John Backhouse coming down the hill with 
the dogs. Mother, may we go up ourselves and ask 
Becky and Tiza to come to tea ?" 

"But Aunt Emma must tell us her story first," 
persisted Oily, who hated being cheated out of a story 
by anything or anybody. " She promised." 

"You silly boy !" said Aunt Emma, " as if I was 



170 MILLY AND OLLY. 

going to keep you indoors listening to stories just now, 
when the sun's shining for the first time for three 
whole days. I promised you my story on a wet day, 
and you shall have it — ^never fear. There'll be plenty 
more wet days before you go away from Bavensnest, 
I'm afraid. There goes my knitting, and mother's 
putting away her work, and father's stretching him- 
self — which means we're all going out for a walk." 

" To fetch Becky and Tiza, mother ?" asked Milly ; 
and when mother said " Yes, if you like," the two 
children raced off down the long passage to the 
nursury in the highest possible spirits. 

Soon they were all walking along the dripping 
drive past high banks of wet fern, and under trees 
which threw down showers of rain-drops at every 
puflf of wind. And when they got into the road 
beside the river the children shouted with glee to see 
their brown shallow little river turned into a raging 
flood of water, which went sweeping and hurrying 
through the fields, and every now and then spreading 
itself over them and making great pools among the 
poor drowned hay. They ran on to look for the 
stepping-stones, but to their amazement there was 
not a stone to be seen. The water was rushing over 
them with a great roar and swirl, and Milly shivered 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 171 

a little bit when she remembered their bathe there a 
week before. 

** Well, old woman," said Mr. Norton, coming up 
to them, "I don't suppose you'd like a bathe to- 
day — quite." 

" If we were in there now," said Oily, watching 
the river with great excitement, " the water would 
push us down krick! and the fishes would come and 
etten us all up." 

" They'd be a long time gobbling you up, Master 
Fatty," said his father. " Come, run along ; it's too 
cold to stand about." 

But how brilliant and beautiful it was after the 
rain ! Little tiny trickling rivers were running down 
all the roads, and sparkling in the sun; the wet 
leaves and grass were glittering, and the great moun- 
tains all round stood up green and fresh against the 
blue sky, as if the raia had washed the dust off them 
from top to toe, and left them clean and bright. 
Two things only seemed the worse for the rain— 
the hay and the wUd strawberries. Milly peered 
into all the banks along the road where she generally 
found her favourite little red berries, but most of 
them were washed away, and the few miserable 
things that were left tasted of nothing but rain 



172 MILLY AND OLLY. 

water. And as for the hay -fields, they looked so 
wet and drenched that it was hard to believe any 
sunshine could ever dry them. 

"Poor John Backhouse!" said Aunt Emma; " I'm 
afraid his hay is a good deal spoilt. Aren't you glad 
father's not a farmer, Milly ? " 

" Why, Aunt Emma ? " said Milly, " I'm always 
wishing father was a farmer. I want to be like 
Becky, and call the cows, and mind the baby 
all by myself. It must be nice feeding the 
chickens, and making the hay, and taking the Tnillr 
round." 

"Yes, all that's very nice, but how would you 
like your hay washed away, and your com beaten 
down, and your fruit all spoilt ? These are things 
that are constantly happening to John Backhouse, 
I expect, in the rainy country." 

"Yes; and it won't always be summer," said 
Milly considering. " I don't think I should like to 
stay in that little weeny house all the winter. Is it 
very cold here in the winter. Aunt Emma ?" 

" Not very, generally. But last winter was very 
cold here, and the snow lay on the ground for weeks 
and weeks. On Christmas eve, do you know, MiUy, 
I wanted to have a children's party in my kitchen, 



^ 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF, 173 

and what do you think I did ? The snow was lying 
deep on the roads, so I sent out two sledges." 

" What are sledges ? " asked Oily. 

"Carriages with the wheels taken off and two 
long pieces of wood fastened on instead, so that 
they slip along smoothly over the snow. And my 
old coachman drove one and my gardener the other, 
and they went round all the farmhouses near by, 
and gathered up the children, little and big, into 
the sledges, tiU the coachman had got eight in his 
sledge, and the gardener had got nine in his, and 
then they came trotting back with the bells round the 
horses' necks jingling and clattering, and two such 
merry loads of rosy-faced children. I wish you had 
been there ; I gave them tea in the kitchen, and after- 
wards we had a Christmas-tree in the drawing-room." 

" Oh what fun," said Milly. " Why didn't you 
ask us too. Aunt Emma? We could have come 
quite well in the train, you know. But how did the 
children get home ? " 

"We covered them up warm with rugs and 
blankets, and sent them back in the sledges. And 
they looked so happy with their toys and buns 
cuddled up in their arms, that it did one's heart 
good to see them." 



% 



174 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" Mind you ask us next time, Aunt Emma," said 
Milly, hanging round her neck coaxingly. 

" Mind you get two pairs of wings by that time 
then," said Aunt Emma, "for mother's not likely 
to let you come to my Christmas-tree unless you 
promise to fly there and back. But suppose, 
instead of your coming, to me, I come to you next 
Christmas ? " 

" Oh yes ! yes ! " cried GUy, who had just joined 
Aunt Emma and MiUy, "come to our Christmas- 
tree, Aunt Emma. We'll give you ever such nice 
things — a ball and a top, and a train — perhaps — 
and " 

"As if Aunt Emma would care for those kind 
of things!" said MiUy. "No, you shall give her 
some mufifatees, you know, to keep her hands warm, 
and I'll make her a needle-book. But, Aunt Emma, 
do listen ! What can be the matter ? " 

They were just climbing the little bit of steep 
road which led to the farm, and suddenly they heard 
somebody roaring and screaming, and then an angry 
voice scolding, and then a great clatter, and then 
louder roaring than ever. 

" What is the matter ? " cried MiUy, running on 
to the farm door, which was open. But just as she 



k 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 175 



got there, out rushed a tattered little figure with a 
tear-stained face, and hair flying behind. 

"Tiza!" cried Milly, trying to stop her. But 
Tiza ran past her as quick as lightning down the 
garden path towards the cherry-tree, and in another 
minute, in spite of the shower of wet she shook 
down on herself as she climbed up, she was sitting 
high and safe among the branches, where there was 
no catching her nor even seeing her. 

" Ay, that's the best place for ye," said Mrs. Back- 
house, appearing at the door with an angry face; 
" you'll not get into so much mischief there perhaps 
as you will indoors. Oh, is that you. Miss Elliot (that 
was Aunt Eroma's surname). Walk in please, ma'am, 
though you'll find me sadly untidy this afternoon. 
Tiza's been at her tricks again ; she keeps me sweeping 
up after her all day. Just look here, if you please, 
ma'am." 

Aunt Emma went in, and the children pressed 
in after her, full of curiosity to see what crime Tiza 
had been committing. Poor Mrs. Backhouse ! all 
over her clean kitchen floor there were streams of 
water running about> with little pieces of cabbage 
and carrot sticking up in them here and there, while 
on the kitchen table lay a heap of meat and vege- 



I 



176 MILLY AND OLLY. 

tables which Mrs. Backhouse had evidently just 
picked up out of the grate before Aunt Emma and 
the children arrived. 

" Yes," said Mrs. Backhouse, pointing to the floor, 
"there's the supper just spoilt Tiza's never easy 
but when she's in mischief. I'm sure these wet 
days I haven't known what to do with her indoors 
aU day. And what must she do this afternoon but 
tie her tin mug to the cat's tail, till the poor creature 
was nearly beside herself with fright, and went 
rushing about upstaii^s like a mad thing. And then, 
just when I happened to be out a minute looking 
after something, she lets the cat in here, and the 
poor thing jumps into the saucepan I had just put 
on with the broth for our supper, and in her fright 
and all turns it right over. And now look at my 
grate, and the fender, and the floor, and the meat 
there aU messed ! I expect her father '11 give Tiza a 
good beating when he comes in, and I'm sure I 
shan't stand in the way." 

" Oh no, please, Mrs. Backhouse !" said MiUy, run- 
ning up to her with a grave imploring little face. 
" Don't let Mr. Backhouse beat her ; she didn't mean 
it, she was only in fun I'm sure." 

*' Well, missy, it's very troublesome fim I'm sure," 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 17*7 

said Mrs. Backhouse, patting Milly kindly on the 
shoulder, for she was a good-natured woman, and it 
wasn't her way to be angry long. "I don't know 
what I'm to give John for his supper, that I don't. 
I had nothing in the house but just those little odds 
and ends of meat, that I thought would make a nice 
bit of broth for supper. And now he'U come in wet 
and hungry, and there'll be nothing for him. Well, 
we must do with something else, I suppose, but I 
expect her father '11 beat her." 

Milly and Oily looked rather awestruck at the 
idea of a beating from John Backhouse, that great 
strong brawny farmer ; and Milly, whispering some- 
thing quickly to Aunt Emma, slipped out into the 
garden again. By this time father and mother had 
come up, and Becky appeared from the farmyard, 
wheeling the baby in a little wooden cart, and radiant 
with pleasure at the sight of Aunt Emma, whose 
god-child she was, so that MiUy's disappearance was 
not noticed. 

She ran down the garden-path to the cherry-tree, 
and as, in the various times they had been together, 
Becky and Tiza had taught her a good deal of climb- 
ing, she too clambered up into the wet branches, and 
was soon sitting close by Tiza, who had turned her 

N 



i 



178 MILLY AND OLLY. 

cotton pinafore over her head and wouldn't look at 
MiUy. 

"Tiza," said Milly softly, putting her hand on 
Tiza's lap, " do you feel very bad ?" 

No answer. 

" "We came to take you down to have tea with us," 
said Milly ; " do you think your mother will let you 
come?" 

"Naw," said Tiza shortly, without moving from 
behind her pinafore. 

It certainly wasn't very easy talking to Tiza. 
Milly thought she'd better try something else. 

"Tiza," she began timidly, "do your father and 
mother teU you stories when it rains ?" 

"Naw," said Tiza, in a very astonished voice, 
throwing down her pinafore to stare at Milly. 

" Then what do you do, Tiza, when it rains V* 

" Nothing," said Tiza. " We has our dinners and 
tea, and sometimes Becky minds the baby, and some- 
times I do ; and father mostly goes to sleep." 

" Tiza," said Milly hurriedly, " did you mean pussy 
to jump into the saucepan ?" 

Up went Tiza's pinafore again, and Milly was in 
dismay because she thought she had made Tiza cry ; 
but to her great surprise Tiza suddenly burst into 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF, 179 

such fits of laughter, that she nearly tumbled off the 
cherry-tree. 

" Oh, she did jump so, and the mug made such a 
rattling ! And when she comed out there was just a 
little bit of carrot sticking to her nose, and her tail 
was all over cabbage leaf. Oh, she did look funny !" 

Milly couldn't help laughing too, till she remem- 
bered all that Mrs. Backhouse had been saying. 

" Oh, but, Tiza, Mrs. Backhouse says your father 
won't have anything for his supper. Aren't you 
sorry you spoilt his supper ?" 

" Yis," said Tiza, quickly. " I know father '11 beat 
me, he said he would next time I vexed mother." 

And this time the pinafore went up in earnest, and 
Tiza began to cry piteously. 

" Don't cry, Tiza," said Milly, her own little cheeks 
getting wet too, " I'll beg him not. Can't you make 
up anyway ? Mother says we must always make up 
if we can when we've done any harm. I wish I had 
anything to give you to make up." 

Tiza suddenly dried her eyes and looked at Milly, 
with a bright expression which was very puzzling. 

" You come with me," she said suddenly, swinging 
herself down from the tree. "Come here by the 
hedge, don't let mother see us." 



180 MILLY AND OLLY. 

So they ran along the far side of the hedge till 
they got into the farmyard, and then Tiza led Milly 
past the hen-house, up to the comer where the hay- 
ricks were. In and oilt of the hay-ricks they went, 
till in the very farthest comer of all, where hardly 
anybody ever came, and which nobody could see into 
from the yard, Tiza suddenly knelt down and put 
her hand under the hay at the bottom of the rick, 

" You come,*' she whispered eagerly to Milly, pull- 
ing her by the skirt, " you come and look here." 

Milly stooped down, and there in a soft little 
place, just between the hay-rick and the ground, what 
do you think she saw ? Three large brownish eggs 
lying in a sort of rough nest in the hay, and looking 
so round and fresh and tempting, that Milly gave a 
little cry of delight. 

"Oh, Tiza, how be — utiful! How did they get 
there r 

" It's old Sally, our white hen you know, laid them. 
I found them just after dinner. Mother doesn't 
know nothing about them. I never told Becky, nor 
nobody. Aren't they beauties ?" 

And Tiza took one up lovingly in her rough little 
brown hands, and laid it against her cheek, to feel 
how soft and satiny it was. 



^ 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 181 

" Oh, and Tiza, I know," exclaimed Milly eagerly, 
" you meant these would do for supper. That would 
be a lovely make-up. There's three. One for Mr. 
Backhouse, one for Mrs. Backhouse, and one for 
Becky — ^there's none for you, Tiza." 

" Nor none for Becky either," answered Tiza shortly. 
Father 'U want two. Becky and me '11 get bread and 
dripping." 

"Well, come along, Tiza, let's take them in." 
" No, you take them," said Tiza. " Mother won't 
want to see me no more, and father '11 perhaps be 
coining in." 

** Oh, but, Tiza, you'll come to tea with us ?" 
" I don't know," said Tiza, " you ask." 
And off she ran as quick as lightning, off to her 
hiding-place in the cherry-tree, while Milly was left 
with the three brown ^gs, feeling rather puzzled and 
anxious. However, she put them gently in the skirt of 
her &ock, and holding it up in both hands she picked 
her* way through the wet yard back to the house. 

When she appeared at the kitchen door, Aunt 
Emma and Mrs. Backhouse were chatting quietly. Mr. 
and Mrs. Norton, and Oily, had gone on for a little 
stroll along the Wanwick road, and Becky was 
sitting on the window-sill with the baby, who seemed 



182 MILLY AND OLLY, 

very sleepy, but quite determined not to go to sleep 
in spite of all Becky's rocking and patting. 

"Oh, Mrs. Backhouse," began MUly, coming in 
with a bright flushed face, "just look here, what I've 
brought. Tiza found them ju^t after dinner to-day. 
They were under the hay-rick right away in the 
comer, and she wanted to make up, so she showed 
me where they were, so I brought them in, and 
there's two for Mr. Backhouse, and one for you, you 
know. And, please, won't you let Tiza come to tea 
with us?" 

Mrs. Backhouse looked in astonishment at the three 
eggs lying in Milly's print skirt, and at Milly's plead- 
ing httle face. 

"Ay, that's Sally, I suppose. She's always hid- 
ing her eggs is Sally, where I can't find them. So it 
was Tiza found them, was it. Missy ? "Well, they will 
come in very handy for supper as it happens. Thank 
you kindly for bringing them in." 

And Mrs. Backhouse took the eggs and put them 
safely away in a pie-dish, while Becky secretly pulled 
Milly by the sleeve, and smiled up at her as much as 
to say, " Thank you for helping Tiza out of her scrape." 

"And you'll let Becky and Tiza come to tea?" 
asked Milly again. 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 183 

" Well, I'm sure, Miss, I don't know," said Mrs. 
Backhouse, looking puzzled ; " Becky may come and 
welcome, but perhaps it would do Tiza good to stay 
at home." 

" Don't you think she'd better have a little change ? " 
said Aunt Emma in her kind voice, which made Milly 
want to hug her. " I daresay staying indoors so long 
made her restless. If you will let me carry them 
both ofif, I daresay between us, Mrs. Backhouse, we 
can give Tiza a talking-to, and perhaps she'll come 
back in a more sensible mood." 

" Well, Miss Elliot, she shall go if you wish it. 
Come, Becky, give me the baby, and go and put your 
things on." And then going to the door, Mrs. Back- 
house shouted " Tiza." After a second or two a little 
figure dropped down out of the cherry-tree, and came 
slowly up the walk. Tiza had shaken her hair about 
her face so that it could hardly be seen, and she never 
looked once at Aunt Emma and Milly as she came 
up to her mother. 

" There, go along, Tiza, and get your things on," said 
Mrs. Backhouse, taking her by the arm. " I wouldn't 
have let you go out to tea, you know, if Miss Elliot 
and Missy hadn't asked particular. Mind you don't get 
into no more mischief. And very like those eggs 'U 



ff 



184 MILLY AND OLLY. 



do for father's supper ; so, I daresay. 111 not say any- 
thing to him this time— just for onca Now go up." 

Tiza didn't want to be told twice, and presently — 
just as Mr. and Mrs. Norton and Oily were coming 
back from their walk — ^they met Aunt Emma coming 
back from the farm holding Becky's hand, while 
Milly and Tiza walked in front. 

" Well, Tiza," said Mr. Norton, patting her curly 
head ; " I declare I think you beat OUy for mischief. 
Oily never spoilt my dinner yet, that I remember. 
What should I do to him, do you think, if he did ?" 

" Beat him," said Tiza, looking up at Mr. Norton 
with her quick bird-like eyes. 

" Oh dear, no !" said Mr. Norton, "that wouldn't 
do my dinner any good. I should eat him up in- 
stead." 

" I don't believe little boys taste good a bit," said 
Oily, who always believed firmly in his father's 
various threats. " If you ettened me, father, you'd 
be ill" 

" Oh no," said Mr. Norton ; " not if I eat you with 
plenty of bread-sauce. That's the best way to cook 
little boys. Now, Milly, which of you three girls 
can get to that gate first?" 

Off ran the three little girls full tilt down the hill 



THE STORY OF BEOWULF. 185 

leading to Eavensnest, with OUy puffing and panting 
after them. Milly led the way at first, for she was 
light and quick, and a very fair runner for her age ; 
but Tiza soon got up to her and passed her, and it 
was Tiza's little stout legs that arrived first at Eavens- 
nest gate. 

" Oh, Becky !" said Milly, putting her arm round 
Becky's neck as they went into the house together, 
" I hope you may stay a good long time. What time 
do you go to bed?" 

" Oh, I don't know," said Becky. "We go when 
fayther goes." 

"When fayther goes I" exclaimed Milly. "Why 
we go ever so long before father. Why do you stay 
up so late?" 

" Why, it isn't late," said Becky. " Fayther goes 
to bed, now it's summer time, about half-past eight ; 
but in winter, of course, he goes earlier. And we all 
goes together, except baby. Mother puts him out of 
the way before supper." 

"Well, but how funny," said Milly; "I can't 
think why you should be so different from us." 

And Milly went on puzzling over Becky and her 
going to bed, till nurse drove it all out of her head 
by fetching them to tea. Such a merry tea they had; 



186 MILLY AND OLLY, 

and after tea a romp in the big kitchen with father, 
which delighted the little farm - children beyond 
measure. Some time in the evening, I believe, Aunt 
Emma managed to give Tiza a little talking-to, but 
none of the other children knew anything about it, 
except perhaps Becky, who generally knew what 
was happening to Tiza. 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 187 



CHAPTEE IX. 

milly's birthday and a misfortune. 

Now we have come to a chapter which is going to 
be half merry and half sad. I have not told you any 
sad things about Milly and Oily up till now, I think. 
They were such happy little people, that there was 
nothing sad to tell you. They cried sometimes of 
course — ^you remember Milly cried when Oily stickled 
her doll — but generally, by the time they had dried up 
theirtears they had quite forgotten what they were cry- 
ing about ; and as for any real trouble, why they didn't 
know what it could possibly be like. But now, just as 
they were going away from Eavensnest, came a real 
sad thing, and you'll hear very soon how it happened. 
After those three wet days it was sometimes fine 
and sometimes rainy at Eavensnest, but never so 
rainy as to keep the Nortons in all day. And every 
now and then there were splendid days, when the 
children and their father and mother were out all 



188 MILLY AND OLLY. 



day long, wandering over the mountains, or walk- 
ing over to Aunt Emma's, or tramping along 
the well-known roads to Wanwick on one side, 
and the little village of Eydal and Eydal Lake 
on the other. They had another row on Windermere; 
and one fine evening Mr. Norton borrowed a friend's 
boat, and they went out fishing for perch on Bydal 
Lake, the loveliest little lakein theworld,lying softly in 
a green mountain cup, and dotted with islands, which 
seemed to the children when they landed on them like 
little bits of fairyland dropped into the blue water. 

And then! crown of delights ! came the haymaking. 
There were long fine days, when the six small crea- 
tures — Milly, Oily, Becky, Tiza, Bessie, and Charlie — 
followed John Backhouse and his men about in the 
hay-fields from early morning till evening, helping to 
make the hay, or simply rolling about like a parcel 
of kittens in the flowery fragrant heaps. 

Aunt Emma was often at Bavensnest, and the 
children learned to love her better and better, so that 
even wild little Oily would remember to bring her 
stool, and carry her shawl, and change her plate at 
dinner ; and Milly, who was always clinging to some- 
body, was constantly puzzled to know whose pocket 
to sit in, mother's or Aunt Enama's. 



w 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 189 

Then there was the farmyard, the cows and the 
milking, and the chickens. Everything about them 
seemed delightful to Milly and Oily, and the top of 
everything was reached when one evening John 
Backhouse mounted both the children on his big 
carthorse Dobbin, and they and Dobbin together 
dragged the hay home in triumph. 

And now they had only one week more to stay at 
Eavensnest. But that week was a most important 
week, for it was to contain no less a day than Milly's 
birthday. Milly would be seven years old on the 
15th of July, and for about a week before the 15th, 
Milly's little head could think of nothing else. OUy 
too was very much excited about it, for though Milly 
of course was the queen of the day, and all the 
presents were for her, not for him, still it was good 
times for everybody on Milly's birthday; besides 
which, he had his own little secret with mother about 
his present to Milly, a secret which made him very 
happy, but which he was on the point of telling at 
least a hundred times a day. 

" Father," said Milly, about four days before the 
birthday, when they were all wandering about after 
tea one evening in the high garden which was now 
a paradise of ripe red strawberries and fruit of every 



190 AIILLY AND OLLY. 



kind, " does everybody have birthdays ? Do police- 
men have birthdays ? " 

" I expect so, Milly," said Mr. Norton, laughing, 
" but they haven't any time to remember them." 

" But, father, what's the good of having birthdays 
if you don't keep them, and have presents and all 
that ? And do cats and dogs have birthdays ? I 
should like to find out Spot's birthday. We'd give 
her cream instead of nulk, you know, and I'd tie a 
blue ribbon round her neck, and one round her tail 
like the queen's sheep in mother's story." 

" I don't suppose Spot would thank you at all," 
said Mr. Norton. " The cream would make her ill, 
and the ribbon would fidget her dreadfully till she 
pulled it off." 

" Oh dear ! " sighed Milly. " WeU, I suppose Spot 
had better not have any birthday then. But, father, 
what do you think ? Becky and Tiza don't care about 
their birthdays a bit. Becky could hardly remember 
when hers was, and they never have any presents 
unless Aunt Emma gives them one ; or people to tea, 
or anything." 

" Well, you see, Milly, when people have only just 
pennies and shillings enough to buy bread and meat 
to eat, and clothes to put on, they can't go spending 



MILLYIS BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 191 

money on presents ; and when they're very anxious 
and busy all the year round they can't be remember- 
ing birthdays and taking pains about them like richer 
people can, who have less to trouble them, and whose 
work does not take up quite so much time." 

" Well, but why don't the rich people remember 
the poor people's birthdays for them, father ? Then 
they could give them presents, and ask them to tea 
and all, you know." 

"Yes, that would be a very good arrangement," 
said Mr. Norton, smiling at her eager little face, 
" only, somehow, Milly, things don't come right like 
that in this world." 

"Well, I'm going to try and remember Becky's 
and Tiza's birthdays," said Milly. " I'll tell mother 
to put them down in her pocket-book — won't you, 
mother? Oh, what fun! I'll send them birthday 
cards, and they'U be so surprised, and wonder why ; 
and then they'll say 'Oh, why, of course it's our 
birthday!' — No not our birthday — but you know 
what I mean, father." 

" Well, but, Milly," asked Mrs. Norton, " have you 
made up your mind what you want to do this birth- 
day?" 

MiUy stopped suddenly, with her hands behind 



192 MILLY AND OLLY. 

her, opposite her mother, with her lips tightly pressed 
together, her eyes smiling, as if there was a tremen- 
dous secret hidden somewhere. 

" Well, monkey, out with it. What have you got 
hidden away in your little head ? " 

" Well, mother," said Milly, slowly, " I don't want 
to have anybody to tea. I want to go out to tea 
with somebody. Now can you guess ? " 

" With Aunt Emma ? " 

" Oh no. Aunt Emma's coming over here all day. 
She promised she would." 

« With Becky and Tiza ? " 

Milly nodded, and screwed up her little lips 
tighter than ever. 

"But I don't expect Mrs. Backhouse will want 
the trouble of having you two to tea." 

" Oh mother, she won't mind a bit. I know she 
won't ; because Becky told me one day her mother 
would like us very much to come some time if you'd 
let us. And Nana could come and help Mrs. Back- 
house, and we could all wash up the tea-things after- 
wards, like we did at the picnic." 

"Then Tiza mustn't sit next me," said OUy, 
who had been listening in silence to all the arrange- 
ments. "She takes away my bread-and-butter 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 193 

when I'm not looking, and I don't like it, not a 
bit." 

" No, Oily dear, she shan't," said Milly, taking his 
hand and fondling it, as if she were at least twenty 
years older. " 111 sit on one side of you and Becky 
on the other," a prospect with which OUy was 
apparently satisfied, for he made no more objections. 

" WeU, you must ask Mrs. Backhouse yourselves," 
said Mrs. Norton. "And if it is her washing-day, 
or inconvenient to her at all, you mustn't think of 
going you know." 

So early next morning, MiHy and Nana and OUy 
went up to the farm, and came back with the answer 
that Mrs. Backhouse would be very pleased to see them 
at tea on Thursday, the 15 th, and that John Backhouse 
would have cut the hay-field by the river by then, 
and they could have a romp in the hay afterwards. 

Wednesday was a deeply interesting day to OUy. 
He and his mother went over by themselves to 
Wanwick, and they bought something which the 
shopwoman at the toy-shop wrapped up in a neat 
little parcel, and which OUy carried home, looking 
as important as a little king. 

" MUly," he began at dinner, ** wouldnH you like 
to know about your presents ? But of course I shan't 



\ 



194 MILLY AND OLLY. 

tell you about mine. Perhaps I'm not going to give 
you one at alL Oh, mother," in a loud whisper to Mrs. 
Norton, " did you put it awaysafe where she can't see?" 

" Oh, you silly boy," said MUly, " you'll tell me if 
you don't take care." 

" No, I shan't. I wouldn't tell you if you were to go 
on asking me all day. It isn't very big you know, 
Milly, and — and — it isn't pretty outside — only ^" 

" Be quiet, chatterbox," said Mr. Norton, putting 
his hand over Olly's mouth, " you'll tell in another 
minute, and then there'll be no fun to-morrow." 

So Oily with great difficulty kept quiet, and began 
eating up his pudding very fast, as if that was the only 
way of keeping his little tongue out of mischief. 

"Father," he said after dinner, "do take MUly 
out for a walk, and mother shall take me. Then I 
can't tell, you know." 

So the two went out different ways, and Oily kept 
away from Milly all day, in great fear lest somehow 
or other his secret should fly out of him in spite of 
all his efforts to keep it in. At night the children 
made nurse hurry them to bed, so that when mother 
came to tuck them up, as she generally did, she 
found the pair fast asleep, and nothing left to kiss 
but two curly heads buried in the pillows. 



i 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 195 



" Bless their hearts," said nurse to Mrs. Norton, 
" they can think of nothing but to-morrow. They'll 
be sadly disappointed if it rains." 

But the stars came out, and the new moon shone 
softly all night on the great fir-trees and the rose- 
buds and the little dancing beck in the Eavensnest 
garden; and when Milly awoke next morning the 
sun was shining, and Brownholme was towering up 
clear and high into the breezy blue sky, and the trees 
were throwing cool shadows on the dewy lawn round 
the house. 

" Oh dear," said Milly, jumping up, her face 
flushing with joy ; " it's my birthday and it's fine. 
Nana, bring me my things, please.— But where's 
OUy ? " 

Where indeed was Oily ? There was his little 
bed, but there was a night-dress rolled up in it, and 
not a wisp of his brown curls was to be seen any- 
where. 

" Why, Miss Milly, are you woke up at last ? I 
hardly thought you'd have slept so late this morning. 
Many happy returns of the day to you," said nurse, 
giving her a hearty hug. 

" Thank you, dear nurse. Oh, it is so nice hav- 
ing birthdays. But where can OUy be ? " 



^ 



1 06 MILL T AXD OLLY. 

" Don't vou tionble vonr head about him," said 
nurse mvsteriously, and not another word could 
Milly get out of her. She had just slipped on her 
white cotton frock when mother opened the door. 

" Well, birthday-girl ! The top of the morning to 
you, and many, many happy returns of the day.** 

Whereupon Milly and mother went through a 
great deal of kissing which need not be described, and 
then mother helped her brush her hair, and put on 
her ribbon and tie her sash, so that in another 
minute or two she was quite ready to go down. 

" Now, Milly, wait one minute till you hear the 
bell ring, and then you may come down as fast as 
you like." 

So Milly waited, her little feet dancing with im- 
patience, till the bell began to ring as if it had gone 
quite mad. 

" Oh, that's Oily ringing," cried Milly, rushing off. 
And sure enough when she got to the hall there was 
Oily ringing as if he meant to bring the house down. 
He dropped the bell when he saw Milly, and dragged 
hor breathlessly into the dining-room. 

And what did Milly see there I wonder ? Why a 
hoap of red and wliite roses lying on the breakfast 
Uiblo, a big heap, with odd comers and points sticking 



MILLTS BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 197 

up all over it, and under the roses a white napkin, and 
under the napkin treasures of all sorts — a book from 
father, a little work-box from mother, with a picture 
of Windermere on the outside, and inside the most 
delightful cottons and needles and bits of bright- 
coloured stuffs ; a china doll's dinner-service from 
Aunt Emma, a mug from nurse, a little dish full of 
big red strawberries from gardener, and last, but not 
least, Olly's present — a black paint-box, with colours 
and brushes and all complete, and tied up with a 
little drawing-book which mother had added to make 
it really usefuL At the top of the heap, too, lay two 
letters addressed in very big round hand to " Miss 
Milly Norton," and one was signed Jacky and the 
other signed Francis. Each* of these presents had 
neat little labels fastened on to them, and they were 
smothered in roses, — deep red and pale pink roses, 
with the morning dew sprinkled over them. 

" We got all those roses, mother and me, this 
morning, when you was fast asleep, Milly," shouted 
Oily, who was capering about like a mad creature. 
" Mother pulled me out of bed ever so early, and 
I putted on my goloshes, and didn't we get wet just ! 
MiUy, isn't my paint-box a beauty ? " 

But it's no good trying to describe what Milly felt. 



I 



I 

i 



i - 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE, 199 

But first Milly had drawn mother into a comer 
where no one could see, and there, with a couple of 
tears in her two blue eyes, she had whispered in a 
• great hurry, so that Mrs. Norton could scarcely hear, 
** I don't want to have everything just as / like to- 
.day, mother. Can't I do what somebody else likes ? 
I'd rather." 

Which means that Milly was a good deal excited, 
and her heart very full, and that she was thinking 
of how, a year before, her birthday had been rather 
'- spoilt towards the end of it by a little bit of cross- 
ness and self-will, that she remembered afterwards 
with a pang for many a long day. Since then, Milly 
had learnt a good deal more of that long, long lesson, 
which we go on learning, big people and little people, 
all our lives, — the lesson of self-forgetting ; of how 
love brings joy, and to be selfish is to be sad ; and her 
birthday seemed to bring back to her all that she had 
been learning. 

"Dear little woman," said Mrs. Norton, putting 
back her tangled hair from her anxious little face, 
"go and be happy. That's what we all like to-day. 
Besides, you'll find plenty of ways of doing what 
other people like before the end of the day without 
my inventing any. Eun along now, and climb away. 



200 MILLY AND OLLY. 

Mind yon don't let OII7 tnmble into bogs, and 
mind yon bring me a bunch of ferns for the din- 
ner table — and there'll be two things done at any 
rate." 

So away ran Milly ; and all the morning she and 
OUy and father scrambled and dimbed, and raced 
and chatted, on the green back of old Brownholme. 
They went to say good morning to John Backhonse's 
cows in the ''intak," as he called his top field, and 
they jnst peeped over the wall at the fierce yonng 
bull he had bought at Penrith fair a few days before, 
and which looked as i^ birthdays or no birthdays, he 
could have eaten MiQy at two mouthfuls, and swal- 
lowed OUy down afterwards without knowing it 

Then they climbed and climbed after &ther, til], 
just as OUy was banning to feel his 1^ to make 
sure they weren't faUing ofl^ they were so tired and 
shaky — there they were standing on the great pile of 
stones which marks the top of the mountain — the 
very tip-top of aU its green points and rocks and 
grassy stretches. By this time the children knew 
the names of most of the mountains round, and of 
aU the lakes. They went through them now like a 
lesson with their father; and even OUy remembered 
a great many, and could chatter about HelveUyn, and 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 201 

Fairfield, and Langdale Pikes, as if he had trudged to 
the top of them all himself. 

Then came the getting down again. Father and 
Milly and Oily, hand-in-hand, racing over the short 
fine grass, startling the little black-faced sheep, and 
racing down the steep bits, where Milly and Oily 
generally tumbled over in some sort of a heap at the 
bottom. As for the flowers they gathered, there were 
so many I have no time to tell you about them — 
wood-flowers and bog-flowers and grass-flowers, and 
ferns of all sizes to mix with them, from the great 
Osmunda, which grew along the Eavensnest Beck, 
down to the tiny little parsley fern. It was all de- 
lightful — the sights and the sounds, and the fresh 
mountain wind that blew them about on the top ; so 
that long afterwards MiUy used to look back to that 
walk on Brownholme when she was seven years old as 
one of the merriest times she ever spent. 

Dinner was very welcome after all this scramb- 
ling ; and after dinner came a quiet time in the gar- 
den, when father read aloud to mother and Aunt 
Emma, and the children kept still and listened to as 
much as they could understand, at least imtil they 
went to sleep, which they both did lying on a rug at 
Aunt Emma's feet. Milly couldn't understand how 



202 MILLY AND OLLY 

this had happened at all, when she found herself 
waking up and rubbing her eyes ; but I think it was 
natural enough after their long walk in the sun and 
wind. 

At four o'clock nurse came for them, and when 
they had been put into clean frocks and pinafores, 
she took them up to the farm. Milly and Oily felt 
that this was a very solemn occasion, and they 
walked up to the farmhouse door hand-in-hand, feel- 
ing as shy as if they had never been there before. 
But at the door were Becky and Tiza waiting for 
them, as smart as new pins, with shining hair, and 
red ribbons under their little white collars ; and the 
children no sooner caught sight of one another than 
all their shyness flew away, and they began to 
chatter as usual. 

In the farmhouse kitchen were Bessie and Charlie, 
and such a comfortable tea spread out on a long 
table, covered with a red and black woollen table- 
cloth instead of a white one. Becky and Tiza had 
filled two tumblers with meadow-sweet and blue 
campanula, which stood up grandly in the middle, 
and there were two home-made cakes at each end, 
and some of Sally's brown eggs, and piles of tempting 
bread-and-butter. 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY ^ND A MISFORTUNE. 203 

Each of the children had their gift for Milly too : 
Becky had plaited her a basket of rushes, a thing she 
had often tried to teach Milly how to make for her- 
seK; and Tiza pushed a bunch of wild raspberries 
into her hand, and ran away before Milly could say 
thank you ; Bessie shyly produced a Christmas card 
that somebody had once sent to her; and even 
Charlie had managed to provide himself with a 
bunch of the wild yellow poppies which grew on the 
wall of the Eavensnest garden, and were a joy to all 
beholders. 

Then Mrs. Backhouse put Milly at one end of the 
table, while she began to pour out tea at the other, 
and the feast began. Certainly, Milly thought, it 
was much more exciting going out to tea at a farm- 
house than having children to tea with you at home, 
just as you might anywhere, on any day in the year. 
There were the big hens coming up to the door and 
poking in their long necks to take a look at them ; 
there were the pigeons circling round and round in 
the yard ; there was the sound of milking going on in 
the shed close by, and many other sights and sounds 
which were new and strange and delightful. 

As for Oily, he was very much taken up for a 
time with the red and black table-cloth, and could 



204 MILLY AND OLLY. 

not be kept from peering underneath it from time to 
time, as if he suspected that the white table-cloth he 
was generally accustomed to had been hidden away 
underneath for a joke. But when the time for cake 
came, Oily forgot the table-cloth altogether. He had 
never seen a cake quite like the bun-loaf, which kind 
Mrs. Backhouse had made herself for the occasion, 
and of which jshe had given him a hunch ; so in his 
usual inquisitive way he began to turn it over and 
over, as if by looking at it long enough he could find 
out how it was made and all about it. Presently, 
when the others were all quietly enjoying their bun- 
loaf, Olly's shrill little voice was heard saying — while 
he put two separate fingers on two out of the few 
currants in his piece — 

" This currant says to that currant, * I'm here, where 
are you ? You're so far off I can't see you nowhere.'" 

" OUy, be quiet," said MiUy. 

" Well, but, MiUy, I can't help it, it's so funny. 
There's only three currants in my bit ; and cookie 
puts such a lot in at home. I'm pretending they're 
little children wanting to play, only they can't, they're 
so far off. There, I've etten one up. Now there's 
only two. That's you and me, MiUy. I'll eat you 
up first— krick ! " 




MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 205 

"Never mind about the currants, little master," 
said Mrs. Backhouse, laughing at him. "It's nice 
and sweet any way, and you can eat as much of it 
as you Uke, which is more than you can of rich 
cakes." 

Oily thought there was something in this, and by 
the time he had got through his second bit of bun- 
loaf he had quite made up his mind that he would 
get Susan to make bun-loaves at home too. 

They were just finishing tea when there was a 
great clatter outside, and by came the hay-cart with 
John Backhouse leading the horse, and two men 
walking beside it. 

" We're going to carry all the hay in yon lower 
field presently," he shouted to his wife as he passed. 
" Send the young 'uns down to see." 

Up they all started, and presently the whole party 
were racing down the hill to the river-field, with Mrs. 
Backhouse and her baby walking soberly with nurse 
behind them. Yes, there lay the hay piled up in 
large cocks on the fresh clean-swept carpet of bright 
green grass, and in the middle of the field stood the 
hay-cart with two horses harnessed, one man standing 
in it to press down and settle the hay as John Back- 
house and two other men handed it up to him on 



206 MILLY AND OLLY. 

pitchforks. Oily went head over heels into the 
middle of one of the cocks, followed by Charlie, and 
would have liked to go head over heels into all the 
rest, but Mr. Norton, who had come into the field 
with mother and Aunt Emma, told him he must be 
content to play with two cocks in one of the far 
corners of the field without disturbing the others, 
which were all ready for carrying ; and that if he 
and Charlie strewed the hay about they must tidy it 
up before John Backhouse wanted to put it on the 
cart. So Oily and Charlie went off to their comer, 
and for a little while all the other children played there 
too. Milly had invented a game called the " Babes 
in the Wood," in which two children were the babes 
and pretended to die on the grass, and all the rest 
were the robins, and covered them up with hay 
instead of leaves. She and Tiza made beautiful 
babes : they put their handkerchiefs over their faces 
and lay as still as mice, till OUy had piled so much 
hay on the top of them that there was not a bit of 
them to be seen anywhere, while Bessie began to cry 
out as if she was suffocated before they had put two 
good armfuls over her. 

Presently, however, Milly got tired ; and she and 
Tiza walked off by themselves and sat down by the 




MILLTS BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 207 

river to get cool. The water in the river was qtiite 
low again now, and the children could watch the 
tiny minnows darting and flashing about by the 
bank, and even amuse themselves by fancying every 
now and then that they saw a trout shooting across 
the clear brown water. Tiza had quite left off being 
shy now with Milly, and the two chattered away, 
Milly telling Tiza all about her school, and Jacky 
and Francis, and Spot, and the garden at home ; and 
Tiza telling Milly about her father's new buU — ^how 
frightened she and Becky were of him, and how 
father meant to make the fence stronger for fear he 
should get out and toss people. 

"What a happy little party," said Aunt Emma 
to mother, looking round the field ; " there's nothing 
like hay for children." 

By this time the hay-cart was quite full, and 
crack went John Backhouse's whip, as he took hold 
of the first horse's head and gave him a puU forward 
to start the cart on its way to the farm. 

" Gee-up," shouted John in his loud cheery voice, 
and the horse made a step forward, while the children 
round cried " hurrah ! " and waved their hands. But 
suddenly, there was a loud piteous cry, which made 
John give the horse a sudden push back, and drop 



208 MILLY AND OLLY. 

his whip ; and then, from where they sat, Milly and 
Tiza heard a sound of crying and screaming, while 
everybody in the field ran towards the hay-cart. 
They ran too ; what could have happened ? 

Just as they came up to the crowd of people 
round the cart, Milly saw her father with something 
in his ams. And this something waa Becky-poor 
little Becky, with a great mark on her temple, and 
her eyes quite shut, and such a white face ! 

" Oh, mother ! mother !" cried Milly rushing up to 
her, "tell me, mother, what is the matter with 
Becky ? " 

But Mrs. Norton had no time to attend to her. 
She was running to meet Mrs. Backhouse, who had 
come hurrying up from another part of the field with 
the baby in her arms. 

" She was under the cart when it moved on," said 
Mrs. Norton, taking the baby from her. " We none 
of us know how it happened. She must have been 
trying to hand up some hay at the last moment and 
tumbled under. I don't think her head is much 
hurt." 

On ran Mrs. Backhouse, and Milly and her mother 
followed. 

" Better let me carry her up now without moving 



I 



MILLTS BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 209 

her," said Mr. Norton, as Mrs. Backhouse tried to 
take the little bundle from him. " She has fainted, I 
think. We must get some water at the stream." 
So on he went, with the pale frightened mother, 
while the others followed. Aunt Emma had got 
Tiza and Milly by the hand, and was trying to 
comfort them. 

"We hope she is not much hurt, darlings; the 
wheel did not go over her, thank God. It was just 
upon her when her father backed the horse. But it 
must have crushed her Fm afraid, and there was 
something hanging under the cart which gave her 
that knock on the temple. Look, there is one of the 
men starting off for the doctor." 

Whereupon Tiza, who had kept quiet tiU then, 
burst into a loud fit of crying, and threw herself down 
on the grass. 

"Nurse," called Aunt Enama, "stay here with 
these two poor little ones while I go and see if I can 
be of any use." 

So nurse came and sat beside them, and Milly 
crept up to her for comfort. But poor little Tiza lay 
with her face buried in the grass, and nothing they 
could say to her seemed to reach her little deaf ears. 

Meanwhile, Aunt Emma hurried after the others, 

p 



210 MILLY AND OLLY. 

and presently caught them up at a stream where Mr. 
Norton had stopped to bathe Becky's head and face. 
The cold water had just revived her when Aunt 
Emma came up, and for one moment she opened her 
heavy blue eyes and looked at her mother, who was 
bending over her, and then they shut again^ But 
her little hand went feebly searching for her mother, 
who caught it up and kissed it. 

" Oh, Miss Emma, Miss Emma," she said, pointing 
to the child, " Tm afeard but she's badly hurt." 

" I hope not, with all my heart," said Aunt Emma, 
gently taking her arm. " But the doctor will soon 
be here ; we must get her home before he comes." 

So on they went again, Mr. Norton still carrying 
Becky, and Mr. Backhouse helping his wife along. 
Mrs. Norton had got the baby safe in her motherly 
arms, and so they all toiled up the hill to the farm- 
housa What a difference from the merry party that 
ran down the hill only an hour before ! 

They laid Becky down on her mother'ig bed, and 
then Aunt Emma, finding that Mrs. Norton wished 
to stay tiU the doctor came, went back to the 
children. She found a sad little group sitting in the 
hay-field ; Milly in nurse's lap crying quietly every 
now and then ; Tiza stiU sobbing on the grass, and 



MILLTS BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 211 

Oily, who had just crept down from the farmhouse, 
where he and Charlie had seen Becky carried in, 
talking to nurse in eager whispers, as if he daren't 
talk out loud. 

" Oh, Aunt Emma," cried Milly, when she opened 
the gate, "is she better?" 

" A little, I think, Milly, but the doctor will soon 
be here, and then we shall know aU about it. Tiza, 
you poor little woman, Mrs. Wheeler says you must 
sleep with them to-night. Your mother will want 
the house very quiet ; and to-morrow, you know, you 
can go and see Becky if the doctor says you may." 

At this Tiza began to cry again more piteously 
than ever. It seemed so dreary and terrible to her 
to be shut out from home without Becky. But Aunt 
Emma sat down on the grass beside her, and lifted 
her up and talked to her; with anybody else Tiza 
would have kicked and struggled, for she was a 
curious passionate child, and her grief was always 
wild and angry, but nobody could struggle with 
Aunt Emma, and at last she let herself be comforted 
a little by the tender voice and soft caressing hand. 
She stopped crying, and then they aU took her up to 
the Wheelers' cottage, where Mrs. Wheeler, a kind 
motherly body, took her in, and promised that she 



-1 



212 MILLY AND OLLY, 

should know everything there was to be known about 
Becky. 

" Aunt Emma," said Milly, presently, when they 
were all sitting in the conservatory which ran round 
the house, waiting for Mr. Norton to bring them 
news from the farm, " how did Becky tumble under 
the cart?" 

" She was lifting up some hay, I think, which had 
fallen off, and one of the men was stooping down to 
take it on his fork ; and then she must have slipped 
and fallen right under the cart, just as John Back- 
house told the horse to go on." 

"Oh, if the wheel had gone over!" said Milly, 
shuddering. " Isn't it a sad birthday, Aunt Emma, 
and we were so happy a little while ago ? And then 
I can't understand. I don't know why it happens 
like this." 

"Like what, MiUy?" 

" Why, Aunt Emma, always in stories, you know, 
it's the bad people get hurt and die. And now it's 
poor little Becky that's hurt. And she's such a dear 
little girl, and helps her mother so; I don't think 
she ought to have been hurt." 

" We don't know anything about ' oughts,' Milly, 
darling, you and I. God knows, we trust ; and that 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE. 213 

helps many people who love God to be patient when 
they are in trouble or pain. But think if it had been 
poor mischievous little Tiza who had been hurt — ^how 
she would have fretted. And now very likely Becky 
will bear it beautifully, and so, without knowing it, 
she will be teaching Tiza to be patient, and it will 
do Tiza good to have to help Becky and take care of 
her for a bit, instead of letting Becky always look 
after her and get her out of scrapes." 

" Oh, and. Aunt Emma, can't we all take care of 
Becky ? What can OUy and I do ?" said MiUy, im- 
ploringly. 

" I can go and sing all my songs to Becky," said 
Oily, looking up brightly. 

" By and by, perhaps," said Aunt Enmia, smiling 
and patting his head. " But hark ! isn't that father's 
step?" 

It had grown so dark that they could hardly see 
who it was opening the gate. 

"Oh yes, it is," cried Milly. "It's father and 
mother." Away they ran to meet them, and Mrs. 
Norton took Milly's little pale face in both her hands 
and kissed it. 

" She's not very badly hurt, darling. The doctor 
says she must lie quite quiet for two or three weeks, 



214 MILLY AND OLLY, 

and then he hopes she'll be all right. The wheel 
gave her a squeeze, which jarred her poor little back 
and head very much, but it didn't break anything, 
and if she lies very quiet the doctor thinks she'll get 
quite well again." 

" Oh mother ! and does Tiza know ?" 

" Yes, we have just been to tell her. Mrs. Wheeler 
had put her to bed, but she went up to give her our 
message, and she said poor little Tiza began to cry 
again, and wanted us to tell her mother she would be so 
quiet if only they would let her come back to Becky." 

"Will they, mother?" 

" In a few days perhaps. But she is iiot to see 
anybody but Mrs. Backhouse for a little while." 

" Oh dear !" sighed Milly, while the tears came into 
her eyes again. " We shall be going away so soon, 
and we can't say good-bye. Isn't it sad, mother, just 
happening last thing ? and we've been so happy all 
the time." 

" Yes, Milly," said Mr. Norton, lifting her on to 
his knee. "This is the first really sad thing that 
ever happened to you in your little life I think. 
Mother, and I, and Aunt Emma, teU you stories about 
sad things, but that's very different, isn't it ?" 

" Yes/' said Milly, thinking. " Father, are there 



MILLY'S BIRTHDAY AND A MISFORTUNE, 215 



as many sad things really as there are in stories ? — ^you 
know what I mean." 

"There are a great many sad things and sad 
people in the worid, Milly. We don't have monsters 
plaguing us like King Hrothgar, but every day there 
is trouble and grief going on somewhere, and we 
happy and strong people must care for the sad ones 
if we want to do our duty and help to straighten the 
world a little." 

" Father," whispered Milly, softly, " will you tell 
us how — OUy and me ? We would if we knew how." 

" Well, Milly, suppose you begin with Becky, and 
poor Tiza too, indeed. I wonder whether a pair of 
little people could make a scrap-book for Becky to 
look at when she is getting better." 

" Oh yes, yes !" said Milly, joyfully ; " I've got ever 
so many pictures in mother's writing-book, she let 
me cut out of her 'Graphics,' and Oily can help 
paste; can't you, Oily?" 

" Oily generally pastes his face more than any- 
thing else," said Mr. Norton, giving a sly pull at 
his brown curls. " If I'm not very much mistaken, 
there is a little fairy pasting up your eyes, old man.'* 

" I'm not sleepy, not a bit," said Oily, sitting bolt 
upright and blinking very fast. 



216 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" I think you're not sleepy, but just asleep," said 
Mr. Norton, catching him up in his arms, and 
carrying him to his mother to say good-night. 

Milly went very soberly and quietly up to bed, 
and for some little time she lay awake, her little 
heart feeling very sore and heavy about the "sad 
things " in the world. Then with her thoughts full 
of Becky she fell asleep. 

So ended Milly's birthday, a happy day and a 
sorrowful day, all in one. When Milly grew older 
there was no birthday just before or after it she 
remembered half so clearly as that on which she was 
seven years old. 



LAST DAYS AT BAVENSNEST 217 



CHAPTEE X. 

LAST DAYS AT RAVENSNEST. 

On Friday morning the children and their father 
trudged up very early to the farm to get news of 
Becky. She had had a bad night Mr. Backhouse 
said, but she had taken some milk and beef-tea; 
she knew her father and mother quite well, and she 
had asked twice for Tiza. The doctor said they 
must just be patient. Quiet and rest would make 
her well again, and nothing else, and Tiza was not 
to go home for a day or two. 

As for poor Tiza, a long sleep had cheered her 
up greatly, and when MiUy and OUy went to 
take her out with them after breakfast, they found 
her almost as merry and chatty as usual. But 
she didn't like being kept at the Wheelers', though 
they were very kind to her; and it was all Mrs. 
Wheeler could do to prevent her from slipping 
up to the farm unknown to anybody. 



i 



218 MILLY AND OLLY. 

" They don't have porridge for breakfast/' said 
Tiza, tossing her head, when she and Milly were 
out together. "Mother always gives ns porridge. 
And I won't sit next Charlie. He's always dirtying 
hisself. He stickied hisseK just all over this 
morning with treacle. Mother would have given 
him a clout." 

However, on the whole, she was as good as such 
a wild creature could be, and the children and 
she had some capital times together. Wheeler the 
gardener let them gather strawberries and currants 
for making jam, a delightful piece of work, which 
helped to keep Tiza out of mischief and make 
her contented with staying away from home more 
than anything else. At last, after three days, the 
doctor said she might come home if she would 
promise to be quiet in the house. So one bright 
evening Tiza slipped into the farmhouse and 
squeezed in after her mother to the little room 
where Becky was lying, a white -faced feverish 
little creature, low down among the pillows. 

" Becky," said Tiza, sitting down beside her sister, 
as if nothing had happened, "here's some straw- 
berries. Wheeler gave me some. You can have 
some if you want." 



LAST DAYS AT RA VENSNEST. 2 1 9 

" Just one," said Becky in her weak shaky voice, 
smiling at her; and Tiza knelt on the bed and 
stuffed one softly into her mouth. 

"You'll have to nurse baby now, Tiza," said 
Becky presently, "he's been under mother's feet 
terrible. Mind you don't let him eat nasty things. 
He'U get at the coals if you don't mind him." 

"I'U not let him," said Tiza shortly, setting to 
work on her own strawberries. 

All this didn't sound very affectionate; but I 
think all the same Tiza did love Becky, and I 
believe she tried to do her best in her own funny 
way while Becky was iU. Baby screamed a good 
deal certainly when she nursed her, and it was 
quite impossible of course for Tiza to keep out 
of mischief altogether for two or three weeks. 
Still, on the whole, she was a help to her mother; 
while as for Becky she was never quite happy 
when Tiza was out of the house. Becky, like 
Milly, had a way of loving everybody about her, 
and next to her mother she loved Tiza best of 
anybody. 

After all, the children were able to say good- 
bye to Becky. Just the day before they were 
to go away Mr. Backhouse came down to say 



220 MILLY AND OLLY. 

that Becky would like to see . them very much 
if they could come, and the doctor said they 
might. 

So up they went; Milly a good deal excited, 
and Oily very curious to see what Becky would 
look like. Mr. Backhouse took them in, and they 
found Becky lying comfortably on a little bed, 
with a patchwork counterpane, and her shoulders 
and arms covered up in a red flannel dressing-gown 
that Aunt Emma had sent her. 

Milly kissed her, and Oily shook her hand, and 
they didn't all quite know what to say. 

" Is your back better ?" said Milly at last. " I'm 
so glad the doctor let us come." 

" Haven't you got a bump ? " asked Oily, looking 
at her with aH his eyes. " We thought you'd have 
a great black bump on your forehead, you know- 
ever so big." 

" No, it's a cut," said Becky ; " there now, you can 
see how it's plastered up." 

"Did it hurt?" said OUy, "did you kick? I 
should have kicked. And does the doctor give you 
nasty medicine?" 

" No," said Becky, " I don't have any now. And 
it wasn't nasty at all what I had first. And now I 



k. 




Milly and Oily say Goo<t-bye to Becky. — Page aao. 



LAST DAYS AT BAVENSNEST. 221 

may have strawberries and raspberries, and Mr. 
Wheeler sends mother a plate every day." 

" I don't think it's fair that little boys shouldn't 
never be ill," said OUy, with his eyes fastened on 
Becky's plate of strawberries, which was on the chest 
of drawers. 

" Oh, you funny boy," said Milly ; " why, mother 
gives you some every day though you aren't ill ; and 
I'm sure you wouldn't like staying in bed." 

"Yes, I should," said Oily, just for the sake of 
contradicting. " Do you know, . Becky, we've got a 
secret, and we're not to tell it you, only Milly and I 

are going to *' 

"Don't!" said Milly, putting her hand over his 
mouth. "You'll tell in a minute. You're always 
telling secrets." 

" Well, just half, Milly, I won't tell it all you know. 
It's just like something burning inside my mouth. 
We're going to make you something, Becky, when we 
get home. Something be — ootiful, you know. And 
you can look at it in bed, and we won't make it big, 

so you can turn over the pages, and " 

" Be quiet, Oily," said MiUy, " I should think Becky 
*11 guess now. It'll come by post, Becky. Mother's 
going to help us make it. You'll like it I know." 



222 MILLY AND OLLY. 

"It*s — ^it's — a picture-book!" said Oily, in a loud 
whisper, putting his head down to Becky. " You 
won't tell, will you V* 

" Oh, you unkind boy," said Milly, pouting. " I'll 
never have a secret with you again." 

But Becky looked very pleased, and said she 
would like a picture-book she thought very much, 
for it was dull sometimes when mother was busy and 
Tiza was nursing baby. So perhaps, after all, it didn't 
matter having told her. 

" I'm going to write to you, Becky," said Milly, 
when the time came to go away, " and at Christmas 
I'U send you a Christmas card ; and perhaps some 
day we'll come here again you know." 

*' And then well milk the cows," said Oily ; " won't 
we, Becky ? And I'U ride on your big horse. Mr. 
Backhouse says I may ride aU alone some day when 
I'm big ; when I'm sixty — no, when I'm ninety-five 
you know." 

And then Milly and OUy kissed Becky's pale 
little face and went away, while poor little Becky 
looked after them as if she was very sorry to see the 
last of them ; and outside there were Tiza and baby 
and Mrs. Backhouse, and even John Backhouse him- 
self, waiting to say good-bye to them. It made Milly 



LAST DAYS AT BAVENSNEST. 223 

cry a little bit, and she ran away fast down the hUl, 
while Tiza and OUy were stiU trying which could 
squeeze hands hardest. 

" Oh, you dear mountains," said Milly, as she and 
nurse walked along together. " Look, Nana, aren't 
they lovely ?" 

They did look beautiful this last evening. The 
sun was shining on them so brightly that everything 
on them, up to the very top, was clear and plain, and 
high up, ever so far away, were little white dots mov- 
ing, which Milly knew were cows feeding. 

" Good-bye river, good-bye stepping-stones, good- 
bye doves, good-bye fly-catchers! Mind you don't 
any of you go away till we come back again." 

But I should find it very hard to teU you aU the 
good-byes that Milly and Oily said to the places and 
people at Eavensnest, to the wood and the hayfields, 
and the beck, to Aunt Emma's parrots, John Back- 
house's cows, to Windennere Lake and Eydal Lake, 
above all to dear Aunt Emma herself. 

" Mind you come at Christmas," shouted both the 
children, as the train moved away fix)m Windermere 
station and left Aunt Emma standing on the platform ; 
and Aunt Emma nodded and smiled and waved her 
handkerchief to them tiU they were quite out of sight. 



224 MILLY AND OLLY, 

"Mother," said Milly, when they could not see 
Aunt Emma any more, and the last bit of Brownholme 
was slipping away, away, quite out of sight, " I think 
Eavensnest is the nicest place we ever stopped at. 
And I don't think the rain matters either. I'm go- 
ing to tell your old gentleman so. He said it rained 
in the mountains, and it does, mother — doesn't it ? 
but he said the rain spoilt everything, and it doesn't— 
not a bit." 

" Why, there's that curious old fairy been sprink- 
ling dust in your eyes too, Milly !" said Mr. Norton. 

But something or other had been sprinkling tears 
in mother's. For to the old people there is nothing 
sweeter than to see the young ones opening their 
hearts to all that they themselves have loved and 
rejoiced over. So the chain of life goes on, and joy 
gives birth to joy and love to love. 



THE END. 



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3s. 6d. 

a '2. 



MACMILLAN'S CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN 



CARPENTER.— THE LIFE AND WORK OF MARY CARPENTER. 
By J. EsTLiN Carpbntbr, M.A. With Steel Portrait. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
(Biographical Series.) 

CARSTARES.— WILLIAM CARSTARES: a Character and Career of the 
Revolutionary Epoch (1649—1715). By Robert Story, Minister of Rosnealh. 
8vo. ia#. 

CHATTERTON : a BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY. By Daniel Wilson, 
LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University College, 
Toronto. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. 

CHATTERTON : a STORY OF THE YEAR 1770. By Professor Masson, 
LL.D. Crown 8vo. 5*, 

CICERO.— THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARCUS TULLIUS 
CICERO : being a New Translation of the Letters included in Mr. Watson's 
Selection. With Historical and Critical Notes, by Rev. G. E. Jeans, M.A., 
Fellow of Hertford College, Oxford, Assbtant-M aster in Haileyoury College. 
Bvo. zof. 6d. 

CLARK— MEMORIALS FROM JOURNALS AND LETTERS OF 
SAMUEL CLARK. M.A., formerly Principal of the National Society's Train- 
ing College, Battersea. Edited with Introduction by his Wife. With Portrait. 
Crown Bvo. js. 6d. 

CLASSICAL WRITERS.— Edited by John Richard (Ssbbn. Fcap. 

8vo. Price xs. 6d, each. 

EURIPIDES. By Professor Mahafpy. 
MILTON. By the Rev. Stopford A. Brooke. 
LIVY. By the Rev. W. W. Capes, M.A. 
VERGIL. By Professor Nbttlbship, M.A. 
SOPHOCLES. By Professor L. Campbell, M.A. 

DEMOSTHENES. By S. H. Butcher. M.A. \Ih tke^rgu. 

Other Volu$Hts tofoUow, 

CLIFFORD (W. K.)— LECTURES AND ESSAYS. Edited by Leslie 
Stephen and Frederick Pollock, with Introduction by F. Pollock. Two 
Portraits, a vols. Bvo. 35;. 

COMBE.— THE LIFE OF GEORGE COMBE, Author of "The Constitution 
of Man." By Charles Gibbon. With Three Portraitt engraved by Jeens. 
Two Vols. Bvo. 32*. 

COOPER.— ATHENiE CANTABRIGIENSES. By Charles Henry 

Cooper, F.S.A., and Thompson Cooper, F.S.A. Vol. I. Bvo., 1500—1585, x8*.; 
Vol. II., 1586— 1609, x8*. 

CORREGIO.— ANTONIO ALLEGRI DA CORREGIO. From the German 
of Dr. Julius Meyer, Director of the Royal Gallery, Berlin. Edited, with an 
Introduction, by Mrs. Heaton. Contaimng Twenty Woodbury-type Illustra- 
tions. Royal Bvo. Cloth elegant. 31*. 6d. 

COX (G. V.)— RECOLLECTIONS OF OXFORD. By G. V. Cox, M.A.. 
New College, late Esquire Bedel and Coroner in the University of Oxfora. 
Cheaper Edition- Crown Bvo. 6*. 

CUNYNGHAME (SIR A. T.)— MY COMMAND IN SOUTH 

AFRICA, 1874— 1878. Comprising Experiences of Travel in the Cobmes of 

South Africa Md the Independent States. By Sir Arthur Thurlow Cuotho. 

HAMK. G. C. B. , then Lieutenant-Governor and Commander of the Forces in boutb 

AiricaL Third Edition. Bvo. im. 6<t. 



HXSTOJtV. BIOGRAPHV. TRAVELS. ETC 
• OAII-V NEWS.-— THE JLrAILY JwEWT CC5^5^^?^-*^^5te,i 

TOrjM THE FALL OF KAKS TO THE OJiCLUSiaS OF W* 
' Che*!***' Ediii-WL Owr^ Sv.,. Cf . 

nAVIDSOK.— THE j.:rK ' ' 

^lax^cd. With Poetraii '.ro» :: ex-. -^z. -^a. 
r»A.WSON--AL'c7 DALIAN AB^.T; ] OITC ES. Tbt "Lancia^^J^.^ 

► AJC — FKAXCIS Dh-AK- HVXOAiCUL^: STATLSKAK : A 1| 





E-A.^. :K_ insi. C.i- S«- ^^^ 



trait. «"*" 

r AS —THE KIVEK CLY: E An 55: 

F^^«^S,^oir t^ I- .r. Oia^j; .* By J r-. 

-OEX^ANB-— LIFE ANIJ J.ET'IEP.'t Or T'^SX "^ T^HI-AXE. b* 
of the rtfw« By ^"^ 0*."*.'.*. W : ^^--Esr-r.'i .C.i^ ' w^ i"^ *■ 

OKNISON--'A Hi:-ri jkv i^f cav ali^y from the eai 

TIMES. WitDl>«*-^ lor.-n- rur^^^.. 3^.^. i,,,^. -.:-»: Gau«CK I 
OIX.KB-— G.KFA'-'fc^,^ITA:N. ^ l.^^,^ of Ita.^ « EiiS^ 

OII^B^'TTAWTISOCIETY S pxJSX-:iCATIONS, j,^^ 




; TVIV S.T.tR 



J^TMMOND OF HAWTHOl^>^ 

^^.«rF — Wvrit* uy tf* Kigbi Kan. M ^ C;.^,^^-.. t>,.^- 
*c7 _» iKf. '.f TOHNEAnit- T» T>i * 



MACMILLAN'S CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN 



ELLIOTT.— LIFE OF HENRY VENN ELLIOTT, of Brighton. By 
JosiAH Batsman, M.A. With Portrait, engraved by Jbens. TTiird and 
Cheaper Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 

ELZE.— ESSAYS ON SHAKESPEARE. By Dr. Karl Elze. Translated 
with the Author's sanction by L. Dora Schmitz. 8vo. x2S. 

ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS.— Edited by John Morlby. A 
Series of Short Books to tell people what is best worth knowing as to the Life, 
Character, and Works of some of the great English Writers. In crown 8vo. 
price 2S. 6d. each. 

I. DR. JOHNSON. By Leslie Stephen. 

II. SIR WALTER SCOTT. By R. H. Huttom. 

III. GIBBON. By J. C. Morison. 

IV. SHELLEY. By J. A. Symonds. 
y. HUME. By Professor Huxley. 

VI. GOLDSMITH. By William Black. 

VII. DEFOE. By W. Minto. 

VIII. BURNS. By Principal Shairp. 

IX. SPENSER. By the Very Rev. the Dean op St. Paul's. 

X. THACKERAY. By Anthony Trollops. 

XI. BURKE. By John Morlby. 

XII. MILTON. By Mark Pattison. 

XIIL HAWTHORNE. By Henry James, Jun. 

XIV. SOUTH EY. By Professor Dowdbm. 

XV. BUNYAN. By J. A. Froude. 

XVI. CHAUCER. By Professor A. W. Ward. 
Xyil. COWPER. By Goldwin Smith. 

XVIII. POPE. By Leslie Stephen. 

XIX. BYRON. By Professor Nichol. 

XX. LOCKE. By Professor Fowler. 

XXI. WORDSWORTH. By F. W. H. Myers. 

XXII. DRYDEN. By G. Saintsbury. 

XXIII. LANDOR. By Professor Sidney CoLViN. 

XXIV. DE QUINCEY. By Professor Masson. 

In Preparation:—' 

SWIFT. By John Morley. 

ADAM SMITH. By Leonard H. Courtney, M.P. 

BENTLEY. By Professor R. C Jebb. 

DICKENS. By Professor A. W. Ward. 

BERKELEY. By Professor Huxley. 

CHARLES LAMB. By Rev. Alfred Ainger. 

STERNE. By H. D. Traill. 

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. By J. A. Symonds. 

MACAULAY. By J. Cotter Morison. 

GRAY. By Edmund Gosse 

Othtr Volumti tofoXUm* 



HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELS, ETC. 



ENGLISH POETS: SELECTIONS, with Critical Introductions by various 
Writers, and a General Introduction by Matthew Arnold, Edited by T. H. 
Ward, M.A., late Fellow of Brasenose Collie, Oxford. 4 vok. Crown 8va 
js. 6d. each. 

Vol. I. CHAUCER to DONNE. 

Vol. II. BEN JONSON to DRYDEN. 

Vol. III. ADDISON to BLAKE. 

Vol. IV. WORDSWORTH to SYDNEY DOBELL. 

ETON COLLEGE, HISTORY OF. By H. C. Maxwell Lyte, 
M.A With numerous Illustrations by Professor Delamotte, Coloured Plates, 
and a Steel Portrait cf the Founder, engraved by C. H. Jbens. New and 
Cheaper Issue, with Corrections. Medium 8vo. Cloth elegant. 21J. 

EUROPEAN HISTORY, Narrated in a Series of Historical Selections 
from the best Authorities. Edited and arranged by E. M. Sb^vell, and C. M. 
YoNCB. First Series, crown 8vo. 6;. ; Second Series. X088-1228, crown 8vo. 6s. 
Third Edition. 

FARADAY.—MICHAEL FARADAY. By J. H. Gladstone, Ph.D., 
F.R.S. Second Edition, with Portrait engraved by Jbens from a photograph 
by J. Watkins. Crown 8vo. 4X. 6d. 

PORTRAIT. Artist's Proof, s*- 

FISON AND HOWITT.— KAMILAROI AND KURNAI GROUP. 
Marriage and Relationship, and Marriage by Elopement, drawn chiefly from 
the usage of the AustraUan Aborigines. Also THE KURNAI TRIBE, their 
Customs in Peace and War. By Lorimbr Fison, M.A., and A. W. Howitt, 
F.G.S., with an Introduction by Lewis H. Morgan, LL.D., Author of " System 
of Consanguinity, " "Ancient Society," &c. Demy 8vo. 15*. 

FORBES.— LIFE AND LETTERS OF JAMES DAVID FORBES, F.R.S.. 
late Principal of the United College in tne University of St. Andrews. By 
J. C. Shairp, LL.D., Principal of the United College in the University of St. 
Andrews ; P. G. Tait, M.A., Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University 
of Edinburgh ; and A. Adams-Rbilly, F.R.G.S. 8vo. With Portraits, Afap, 
and Illustrations, zdr. 

FRANCIS OF ASSISI. By Mrs. Oliphant. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 
6s. (Biographical Series.) 

FREEMAN.— Works by Edward A. Frbbman, D.CL., LL.D. :— HIS- 
TORICAL ESSAYS. Third Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d. 

"Contents:— I. "The Mythical and Romantic Elements in Early English 
History ;" II. " The Continuity of English History ; " III. "The Relations between 




Pans;" IX. " Frederick the First. King of Italy;" X. "The Emperor Frederick 
the Second ; '* XI. " Charles the Bold ; ^' XII. " Presidential Government." 

HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Second Series Second Edition, Enlarged. 8vo. 
lof. 6d, 

The principal Essays are: — "Ancient Greece and Mediaeval Italy:" *'Mr. 
Gladstone's Homer and the Homeric Ages : " " The Historians of Athens: " " The 
Athenian Democracy : " "Alexander the Great : " " Greece during the Macedonian 
Period:" " Mommsen's History of Rome:" "Lucius Cornelius Sulla;" "TV«. 
Flavian Caesars." 



8 xMACMILLAN'S CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN 

FRE EMAU-'-coHtiHued. 

HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Third Series. 8to. xm. 

Contents: — " First Impressions of Rome." "The Illyrian Emperors and their 
Land." *' Augusta Trever rum." "The Goths of Ravenna." " Race and Lan- 
guage " "The Byzantine Empire." "First Impressions of Athens." " Mediasval 
and M dem Greece." **The Southern Slaves." "Sicilian Cycles.** "The Nor- 
mans at Palermo." 

COMPARATIVE POLITICS.— Lectures at the Royal Institution. To which b 
added the " Unity of History," the Rede Lecture at Cambridge, 1872. 8vo. i4f. 

THE HISTORY AND CONQUESTS OF THE SARACENS. Six Lectures. 

Third Edition, with New Preface. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. 

HISTORICAL AND ARCHITECTURAL SKETCHES: chiefly Italian. 
With Illustrations by the Author. Crown Sva 10s. Sd. 

SUBJECT AND NEIGHBOUR LANDS OF VENICE. Being a Second 
Series oi Historical and Architectural Sketches. With Illustrations. Crown 
8vo. [Immediately. 

HISTORY OF FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, from the Foundation of the Achaian 
League to the Disruption of the United States. Vol. I. General Introdtx:tion. 
History of the Greek Federatioas. 8vo. 2x.r. 

OLD ENGLISH HISTORY. With Five Coloured Maps. New Edition. 
Extra fcap. Bvo., half-bound. 6s. 

HISTORY OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF WELLS, as illustrating 
the History of the Cathedral Churches of the Old Foundation. Crown 8vo. 
3f . 6d. 

THE GROWTH OF THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION FROM THE 
EARLIEST TIMES. Third Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 5*. 

GENERAL SKETCH OF EUROPEAN HISTORY. Being Vol. I. of a 
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THE OTTOMAN POWER IN EUROPE : its Nature, its Growth, and its 
Decline. With Three Coloured Maps. Crown 8vo. 7*. 6d. 

QALILEO.— THE PRIVATE LIFE OF GALILEO. Compiled principally 
from his Correspondence and that r f his eldest daughter, Sister Mana Celeste, 
Nun in the Franciscan Convent of S. Matthew m Arcetri. With Portrait. 
Crown 8vo, 7*. 6d. 

GALLOWAY.— THE STEAM-ENGINE AND ITS INVENTORS: a 
Historical Sketch. By Robert L. Galloway, Mining Engineer. With 
numerous Illustrations, Crown 8vo. los. td. 

GEDDES.— THE PROBLEM OF THE HOMERIC POEMS. By W. D. 
Gbdobs, LL.D., Professor of Greek in the University ( f Aberdeen. 8vo. 14*. 

GLADSTONE.— Works by the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P. :— 
JUVENTUS MUNDI. The Gods and Men of the Heroic Age. With Map. 
Second Edition. Crown 8vo cloth. io». td. 

HOMERIC SYNCHRONISM. An inquiry into the Time and Place of Homer. 
Crown 8vo. 6*. 

GOETHE AND MENDELSSOHN {1821— 1831). Translated from 
the German of Dr. Karl Mendelssohn, Son of the Composer, by M. E. Von 
GusHif. From the Private Diaries and Home Letters of Mendelssohn, with 
Poems and Letters of Goethe never before printed. Also with two New and 
Original Portraits, Fac-similes, and Appendix of Twenty Letters hitherto 
unpublished. Second Edition, enlarged. Ctovju^no. s** 



HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELS, ETC. 9 

GOLDSMID.—TELEGRAPH AND TRAVEL. A Narrative of the For- 
mation and Development of Telegraphic Communicatiun between England and 
India, under the orders of Her Majesty's Government, w.th incidental Notices 
of the Countries traversed by the Lines. By Cclonel Sir Fredekick Goldsmid, 
C.B., K.C.S.I., late Director of the Government Indo>European Telegrsph. 
With numerous Illustraci jvh and Maps. 8vo. 21s. 

GORDON.— LAST LETTERS FROM EGYPT, to which are added Letters 
from the Cape. By Lady Duff Gordon. With a Memoir by her Daughter, 
Mrs. Ross, and Portrait engraved by Jbems. Second Edition. Crow<n 8vo. 9;. 

GRAY. — CHINA. A History of the Laws. Manners, and Customs of the People. 
By the Venerable John Henry Gray, LL.D., Archdeacon of Hong Kobjt, 
formerly H.B.M. Consular' Chaplain at Canton. Edited by W. Gow Gregor. 
With 150 Full-page Illustrations, being Fac-similes of Drawings by a Chinese 
Artist. ' 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 32s. 

GRAY (MRS.)— FOURTEEN MONTHS IN CANTON. By Mrs. Gray. 

With lUustraiions. Crown Svo. gs. 

GREAT CHRISTIANS OF FRANCE : ST. LOUIS and 
CALVIN. By M^ GuizoT, Member of the Institute of France. Crown Svo. 6s. 
(Biographical Series.) 

GREEN. — Works, by John Richard Grbbn, M.A., LL.D. : — 

HISTORY OF THE ENGUSH PEOPLE. Vol. I.— Early England- 
Foreign- Kings— The Charter— The Parliament. With 8 Cobured Maps. Svo. 
i6s. VoL II. — The Monarchy, 1461— 1540: The Restoration. i54o«— 1603. Svo. 
16*. Vol. III.— Puritan England. 1603 — 1660 ; The Revolution, x66o— 168S. 
With 4 Maps. Svo. ids. vol. IV. — The Revoluti'^n, 1683— 1760; Modem 
£ngland, 1760 — 1815. With Maps and Index. Svo. i6«. 

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. With Coloured 
Maps, Genealogical Table*, and Chronolt gical Annal^s. Crovn Svo. 8*. 6d. 
Seventy-seventh Thousand. 

STRAY STUDIES FROM ENGLAND AND ITALY. Crown Svo. S*. 6d, 
Coptaining : Lambeth and the Archbi^hops>^The Florence of Dante — Venioe ttid 
Rome — Early History of Oxford — The District Visitor — Capri — Hotels in the 
Clouds — Sketches in Sunshine, &c. 

READINGS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. Selected and Edited by Tohw 
Richard Green. In Three Parts. Fcap. Svo, r*. 6d. each. Part L— From 
Hengest to Cressy. Part. XL— From Crts^ to Cromw41. Part III. — From 
Cromw«dl to Balaklava. 

THE MAKING OF ENGLAND. Svo. [In tke^/nss, 

GUEST.— LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By M. J, 
GuBST. With Maps. Crown Svo. 6s. 

HAMERTON.— WorksbyP. G. Hamerton:— 

ETCHINGS AND ETCHERS. Third Edition, revised, with Forty-eight new 
Plates Cohunbier Svo, 

THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE. With a Portrait of Leonardo da Vinci, etched 
by LEOPOLD Flambng. Second Edition. Crown Svo. xor. 6d. 

THOUGHTS ABOUT ART. New Editioni revised, with an Intsoducticn, 
Crown Svo. S«. 6d. 



HEINE.— A TRIP TO THE BROCKEN. By HbiKhicr R«we«.. "^xM^asa^ 
by R. McLiNTOCic. Crown Svo. y. 6i. 



10 MACMILLAN'S CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN 

HELLENIC STUDIES—TOURNAL OF. Parts I. and II., constituting 
Vol. I. 8vo., with 4to Atlas of Illustrations. 30*. Vol. II., Part I. with 4to. 
Atlas of Illustrations. 15^. 

The Journal will be sold at a reduced price to Libraries wishing to subscribe, but 
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Sint, and upon the conditions of Membership, may be obtained on application to the 
on. Secretary, Mr. George Macmillan, 29, Bedford Street, Covent Garden. 

HILL.— THE RECORDER OF BIRMINGHAM. A Memoir of Matthew 
Davenport-Hill, with Selections from his Correspondence. By his daughters 
Rosamond and Florence Davenport-Hill. With Portrait engraved by C. 
H. Jeens. 8vo. i6s. 

HILL. —WHAT WE SAW IN AUSTRALIA. By Rosamond and Florence 
Hill. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 

HODGSON.— MEMOIR OF REV. FRANCIS HODGSON, B.D., Scholar, 
Poet, and Divine. By his son, the Rev. James T. Hodgson, M.A. Contsuning 
numerous Letters from Lord Byron and others. With Portrait engraved by 
Jeens. Two vols. Crown Bvo. iSs. 

HOLE.— A GENEALOGICAL STEMMA OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND 
AND FRANCE. By the Rev. C. Hole, M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge. 
On Sheet, is. 

A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL IDICTIONARY. Compiled and Arranged by 
the Rev. Charles Hole, M.A. Second Edition. xSmo. 4s. 6d, 

HOLIDAY RAMBLES BY A WIFE WITH HER HUS- 
BAND. Republished from the Spectator. New and Cheaper Edition. 
Crown 8vo. 6j. 

HOOKER AND BALL.— MOROCCO AND THE GREAT ATLAS: 
Journal of a Tour in. By Sir Joseph D. Hooker, K.CS.L, C.B., F.R.S., 
&c., and John Ball, F.R.S. With an Appendix, including a Sketch of the 
Geology of Morocco, by G. Maw, F.L.S., F.G.S. With Illustrations and Map. 
8vo. 2 If. 

HOUSE OF LORDS.— FIFTY YEARS OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 
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HOZIER (H. M.)— Works by Captain Henry M. Hozier, late Assistant 
Military Secretary to Lord Napier of Magdala : — 

THE SEVEN WEEKS' WAR; Its Antecedents and Incidents. New and 
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THE INVASIONS OF ENGLAND : a History of the Past, with Lessons for 
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HUBNER.— A RAMBLE ROUND THE WORLD IN 1871. By M. Le 
Baron HObner, formerly Ambassador and Minister. Translated by Lady 
Herbert. New and Cheaper Edition. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 
8vo. 6s. 

HUGHES.— Works by Thomas Hughes, Q.C, Author of "Tom Brown's 
School Days." 
MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. With Portrait of George Hughes, after Watts, 

Engraved by Jeens. Crown Bvo. s*. Sixth Edition. 
RUGBY, TENNESSE, Being some account of the Settlement founded on the 
CuiHiberland Plateau by the Board of Aid to Land Ownership. With a report 
en tha Boih of tb« Plateau by ^b« Hon. F. W. Killbbrew. A.M., HiJ).. 
OjiJimissioncr for Agricultute for tYie Siatt ol Iwitssfct. Okvwu 8vo. 4*. 6d. 



HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELS, ETC. n 



HUNT.— HISTORY OF ITALY. By the Rev. W. Hunt, M.A. Being the 
Fourth Volume of the Historical G}urse for Schools. Edited by Edward A. 
Freeman, D.CL. x8mo. 3;. 

HUTTON.— ESSAYS THEOLOGICAL AND LITERARY. By R. H. 
HUTTON, M.A, Cheaper issue. 2 vols. 8vo. i8s. 

Contents of Vol. I. :— The moral significance of Atheism— The Atheistic Ex- 
planation of Religion— Science and Theism— Popular Pantheism— What is Revela- 
tion ?— Christian Evidences. Popular and Critical— The Historical Problems of the 
Fourth Gospel— The Incarnation and Principles of Evidence — M. Renan's "Christ 
— M.^ Renan's "St. Paul"— The Hard Church— Romanism, Protestantism, and 
Anglicanism. 

Contents of Vol. II. : — Goethe and his Influence— Wordsworth and his genius 
— Shelley's Poetical Mysticism— Mr. Browning— The Poetry of the Old Testament 
—Arthur Hugh Clough— The Poetry of Matthew Arnold — ^Tennyson— Nathaniel 
Hawthorne. 

INGLIS (JAMES) ('* MAORI ").-Worksby James Inglis(" Maori"):— 
OUR AUSTRLIAN COUSINS. 8vo. i+r. 

SPORT AND WORK ON THE NEPAUL FRONTIER ; or, Twelve Years* 
Sporting Reminiscences of an Indigo Planter. By " Maori." With Illustra- 
tions, 8vo. 14s, 

IONIA.-— THE ANTIQUITIES OF IONIA, see under Dilettanti Society^s 
Publications. 

IRVING. — THE ANNALS OF OUR TIME. A Diurnal of Events, Social 
and Political, Home aad Foreign, from the Accession of Queen Victona to ^'H^ 
Peace of Versailles. By Joseph Irving. New edition, revised. 8vo. Hsl\£l 
bound. iBs. 

ANNALS OF OUR TIME. Supplement. From Feb. 38, 1871, to March. 

1874. 8vo. 4f. 6d. 

ANNALS OF OUR TIME. Second Supplement. From March, 1874, to 

Occupation of Cyprus. 8vo. 4*. 6d, 

JAMES.— FRENCH POETS AND NOVELISTS. By Henry Jam^s ^ 
Crown 8vo. Bs. 6d. * J '^' 

Contents: -Alfred de Musset ; Th^opWle Gautier; Baudelaire; Hono^-^ 
Balac ; George Sand : The Two Amperes ; Turg€nieff, &c. ^x^« 

JEBB.— MODERN GREECE. Two Lectures d«l^ered before ^-^^^ 
•* sophical Institution of Edinburgh. With papers on The Progress Of *^A ^^K 
and "Byron in Greece." By R. C Jebb, M.A., LL.D. Edm. I^^^^^^^^c 
Greek in the University of Glasgow. Crown 8vo. 5s ^K^t^^^^ 

JOHNSON'S LIVES OF THE PO^T|:7"THe s\x ow 
8vo. 6*. ^^, 



12 MACMILLAN'S CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN 

KINGSLEY (CHARLES).— Works by the Rev. Charles Kingsi.«», 
M.A, Rector of Evcr^ley and Canon of Westraiaster. (For other Works by 
the same Author, see Theological and Belles Lbttrbs Catalogues.) 

AT LAST: A CHRISTMAS in the WEST INDIES. With nearly Fif^ 
Illustrations. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6x. 

THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON. A Series of Lectures delivered before 
the University of Cambridge. New and Cheaper Edition, with Preface by 
Professor Max MOller. Crown 8vo. ts. 

PLAYS AND PURITANS, and other Historical Essays. With Portrait of Sir 
Walter Raleigh. New Edition. Crown 8vo. ds. 

In addition to the Es<^y mentioned in the title, this v. lume contains other twO'— 
one on "Sir Walter Raleigh and his Time," and one on Froude's ** History of 
England." 

HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS. Crown 8vo. 6j. 

SANITARY AND SOCIAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS. Crown 8vo. fit. 

SCIENTIFIC LECTURES AND ESSAYS. Crown 8vo (a 

LITERARY AND GENERAL LECTURES. Crown 8vo. 6*. 

KINGSLEY (HENRY).— TALES OF OLD TRAVEL R«-nanated by 
Henry Kingsley, F.R.G.S. With Eight lliusuations by Huard. Fifth 
Ediiicn. Crown 8vo. 5^. 

LANG. — CYPRUS: Its History, its Present Resources and Futuxe ProepeclB. 
By R. Hamilton Lang, late H.M. Consul for the Island of Cyprus. With Two 
Illustrations and Four Maps. 8vo. 14^. 

LAOCOON. — Translated from the Text of Les-^ine, with Preface and Notes by 
the Right Hon. Sir Robert J. Phillimore, D.C.L. With Photographs. 8vo. 
1 2 J. 

LEONARDO DA VINCI AND HIS WORKS.— Consisting of a 

L.fe of Leonardo Da Vinci, by Mrs. Charlj:s W. Heaton, Author of "Albrecht 
Diirer if Numberg." &c., an Essay on his Scientific and» Literary Works, by 
Charles Christopher Black, M.A., and an account of his more important 
Paint.ngs and Drawings. Illustrated with Permanent Photographs. Royal 8vo., 
cloth, extra gilt. 31J. td. 

LETHBRIDGE.— A SHORT MANUAL OF THE HISTORY OF 
INDIA, with an account of INDIA AS IT IS. The Soil. Climate, and Pro- 
ducti. ns; the People — their Races. Religions, Public Works, and Industnes; 
the Civil Services and System i^f Administration. By Roper Lethbridge, M.A., 
C.I E., Press Commissi! ner with the Government of India, late Scholar of Exeter 
College, &c. &c. With Maps. Crown 8vo. 5;. 

LIECHTENSTEIN. —HOLLAND HOUSE. Bv Princess Marie Leich- 
TENSTEiN. With Five Steel Engravings by C. H. JeenSj after paintings by 
Watts and other celebrated Artists, and numerous Illustrations drawn by Pro- 
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» 4 

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THE STORY OF THE CHRISTIANS AND MOORS 
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With Vignette by HoLMAN Hunt. 



THE GbLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 31 

LAMB'S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. Edited by the 
Rev. A. AiNGBR, M.A., Reader at the Ten^le. 

POEMS OP WORDSWORTH. Chosen and Edited, with P^efooe 
by Matthew Arnold. (Alto a Large Paper Edition. Crown 8yo. 9^.) 

'* A volume, every page of which is weighted with the golden fruit of poetry.** 
— Pall Mall Gazette. 

SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS. EditedbyP. T. Palgravb. 

POEMS FROM SHELLEY. Selected and arranged by Stoffasd 
A. Bkookb, M.A. <A1so a Large Paper Edition. Crown 8vo. xm. 6d^ -^^ 

" Full of power and true appreciation of Shelley.*'— Spectator. 

ESSAYS OF JOSEPH ADDISON. Choseti and Edit^ by John 
Richard Grbbn, M.^.,.LL.D. 
*' This is a most welcoma addidon to a most exodlenc. aeriss.*'— Examinbr. 

POETRY Q7 BYi^ON. chosen and nnraoged by Matthew AIinold. 
(Also a Large Paper Edition, Crown 8vo.) gs. 

"It is written in Mr. Arnold's neatest vein, and in Mr. Arnold's most pdl9Cid 



r 



' .' . . ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ * / 



32 NIACMILLAN'S .BiOiJiRAKHiICAl- SERIES. 



MACMILLAN'S BIOGRAPI^ICAL 3ERIES. 

Crown 8vo, uniformly bound, price 6s. each. 
t^Al!HEEm£ AND ;CRAUFURD TAIT, rwife «id Son cf 

Archibald Campbejli., Arphhishop of Canterbury: 'a Memoir. » Edited, at the 
request of the Archbishop, by the Rev. W.'BENhAM, B.D.. Vicar of Marden, 
and one of the Six Preachers of Canterbury Cathedral. With two Portraits 
- ftOgravedby Jebns. . Newr«pd CfaeaBtr^EditiDti. 

THE LIFE AND WORK OF K'ARY CARM^TER By 
^jf^EOTLTN CARPENTER, MA.'; With'StefelPottritt. 

BEI^NARD (ST.)— THE LIFE tAMP TUmIES ^OF .»T. 
•^ -BERNARD. Abbot of Idalrvattx. J^/J.C. MXJRISON.H.A NewKdidon. 



adtSARfLOTT^fi BRONTES': klfftmagraph. By T. WSMYSS R£ID. 

Third Edition. 

ST. ANSELM. By the Very Rev. R. W. CHURCH, M A. Dean of St. 
Paul's. New Edition. 

GREAT CHRISTIANS OF FRANCE : ST. LOUIS and CALVIN. 
By M. GUIZOT, Member of the Institute of France. 

ALFRED THE GREAT. By THOMAS HUGHES, Q.C. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, 1852—75. By HARRIET 
MARTI NEAU. WiA Four Additional Sketches, and Autobiographical Sketch 
Fifth Edition. 

FRANCIS OF ASSISI. By Mrs. OLIPHANT. New Edition. 

VICTOR EMMANUEL XL, First King of Italy. By G. S. GODKIN. 

New Edition. 



LONDON : R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTBRS.